Mistaken Liaisons
by Pyro Symptoms Unleashed
Summary: COMPLETE. EPILOGUE UP! For Ginny Weasley's best friend and roommate Blaise Zabini, life is good. Until a newly disinherited Draco Malfoy appears. Sparks fly and emotions rage, proving love has a sick sense of humour.
1. Bleak Dawn

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Here it is; my first non Draco-Ginny story. Or is it? I have not finished it, but I'm having trouble with Draco's character. He just seems to be so troublesome. Indeed I would have kicked him out of the story if he weren't so damn sexy. As for Blaise, I know J.K.Rowling said he was black in the sixth book, but I can't help but think of him as a dark-skinned-and-haired Italian-blooded wizard. I would have changed it to fit with the books, but I had already started writing this before the sixth book. As such, it isn't in correspondence with the sixth book. So, here it is. Work will be sporadic, but I hope to have it finshed soon. I'm also working on the never-ending THR, of which I have only uploaded five chapters so far. So, **GlassBroomsticks**, this is for you. Enjoy.

**DISCLAIMER:** not mine if it belongs to J.K.Rowling.

NOTE: title sucks major arse. I decided to upload before I figured out a good one. Suggestions?

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**Mistaken Liaisons**

**Chapter One: Bleary Dawn

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Blaise Zabini was staring out the window of his room. It was a dark day outside…typical English winter. It had been raining all day and Blaise was beginning to wonder if he'd ever be able to see the sun again through the black clouds hanging ominously in the sky.

He'd never been one for symbolism, but he had the feeling that today was going to be as black as the sky outside. It had started out badly and would most likely continue to get steadily worse until the end of the day.

His roommate had gone out on a date last night and that was the last he'd heard of her. He didn't mind, really…the girl needed to get shagged. But that left him on his own for breakfast this morning and he was utterly depressed by the time he'd shoved the last slimy, improperly-cooked egg down his throat.

Whenever she left, the apartment they shared seemed to dull without her. That darkness, coupled with the burned toast taste in his mouth and the horrible weather outside, made Blaise wish he hadn't woken up this morning.

He glanced around his room; it was rather clean really, except for the clothes everywhere, which he resolved to pick up at the earliest convenience. He had few belongings and didn't find the need to clutter every spare inch of space with mindless sentimental junk like some people did.

His room was tastefully done to his own liking (his roommate had insisted on repainting the crumbling walls). The bed was large and comfortable with forest green sheets. There was a writing desk in the corner and a wardrobe on the far side of the room. All in all, the sparse furbishing in the room was only adding to the lonely misery engulfing him.

He was contemplating hexing himself into a deep sleep when he heard the door to the flat bang open. He literally jumped from his seat; there was only one person with a key to his flat and only one person who banged the doors like that.

He raced from his room eagerly to meet the weary girl who stumbled into the living room. "Hey, Sparky." He grinned, rumpling her short hair. She made an irritated grumbling noise under the mass of hair and shoved him away.

Still stumbling, she made her way over to the sofa and collapsed on it, face-first into the pillows. Blaise was grinning madly as he closed the door. "How was your night?" he asked conversationally, laughing behind his words.

The loud groan of anger his roommate emitted was slightly muffled by the pillow her face was buried in. Blaise tossed himself onto the sofa, disregarding the fact she was already lying on it. He sat on the back of her legs and leaned back. "That good, eh?" he grinned. She lifted her foot and kicked him in the back of the head, face still lost in the pillow.

Rubbing his head, Blaise leaned forward so his face was near hers. "What was wrong with this one?" he asked playfully. "Not enough stamina?" She growled and tried to roll over. It didn't work, as he was still sitting on her legs. So she twisted her torso around to glare at him. "Stay out of my sex life, Zabini." She snarled, eyes heavy with sleep and alcohol.

Blaise frowned. "What happened?" he asked. She usually wasn't this…no that was a lie, she was always this volatile and hot-blooded. But he always liked to know exactly what was making her life hell. It amused him.

She groaned and lay on her back, which was difficult at the weird angle her body was twisted at. Blaise heard her back crack several times. "What didn't happen?" she asked wryly, stretching her arms above her head. "Remind me never to let Pansy set me up with anyone again." She grumbled, kicking Blaise off her. Getting to her feet, she headed to the kitchen and Blaise practically jumped for joy at her mind-reading abilities.

Pulling out eggs and bacon, she pulled her wand from her pocket and flicked it at the stove. Blaise sat himself down at the small table in the centre of his kitchen and watched as she fixed him breakfast.

"So, what was he like?" Blaise asked, beginning one of their common games of 'what was your shag like?'. She sighed. "He was terrific, really. Tall, handsome, well-educated, intelligent, rich, nice, big d-" Blaise held up a hand. "Enough, or I'll be sick." He sneered. She grinned ruefully and went back to stirring eggs…adding bits of onion and green pepper.

"So where did it go bad?" he asked. She shot him a glare and he held up his hands in defence. "Well, apparently he's perfect, so what happened?" He asked. She rolled her eyes, transferring a steaming omelette onto his plate. He started wolfing it down greedily.

"So we were in the middle of shagging, right?" Blaise closed his eyes, not really wanting to hear details while he was eating. "When all of a sudden I realize I haven't been exactly doing much of the shagging…not really interested, right? It then occurs to me that while my body might be getting a bit of a work-out, all my mind was thinking about getting back home and having a nice, steaming hot cuppa." She shrugged, setting a plate of sausage in front of him as he finished his omelette.

"So I told him I'd had a nice time and that he was a terrific guy, but that I was getting married and couldn't ever see him again." She paused for a moment, putting a finger to her mouth as she gave a thoughtful frown. "I don't think he took that too well." She mused.

Blaise rolled his eyes over his sausage link. "Ya fink?" he said around his mouthful. She shrugged, turning back to the sizzling pancakes. Blaise swallowed. "You're not getting married!" She bit into a sausage link, some of the extra grease slipping down her chin. "No…really? Come on, I thought I told you…I've been screwing Goyle for years. We're desperately in love and getting married tomorrow!" she snorted sarcastically, waving the sausage link wearily at him. "Didn't I tell you? You're my maid of honour." She winced suddenly, putting a hand to her forehead. "I need some hangover potion." She grumbled.

Blaise just rolled his eyes and went back to eating. "Remind me the next time I put out an advertisement for a roommate to specifically request they _not_ be mentally unstable." He snorted, taking a sip of strong black coffee.

She scoffed and left the room, pulling her tee off over her head unabashedly. "Ahhh, where's the fun in that?" she asked, tossing her tee onto the living room floor. Blaise sighed and stood, going to clean up after her. "Make sure I also say they need to learn how to pick up after themselves."

She threw her jeans at him.


	2. Reunions

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Hi. Chapter Two. So, I took Draco by the hand after I got back from school a few weeks ago and sat him down on the couch, where I proceeded to gently break the news that he would not be starring in my latest fanfic (all the while trying not to drool, of course). He didn't take it too well. Actually, he didn't take it at all. So, here he is, sliding in to stir trouble, as only Draco can do. Cocky little manipulative bastard. Ginny will come into the story either next chapter or the one after that. Ejoy! (And yes, that is how I spell enjoy.)

Get over it.

**DISCLAIMER:** Not mine if it belongs to J.K.Rowling.

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**Mistaken Liaisons **

**Chapter Two: Reunions

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**

Draco Malfoy stared up at the brick building before him.

Rain spattered at his hair and the wind tore at his clothes, yet he couldn't be moved to walk up those stairs. Not just yet. It was, after all, quite a leap. He hadn't seen Blaise in seven or so years. Even then it was only brief. The real last time he'd spoken to Blaise was around ten years ago, back when they were at Hogwarts and best friends.

School had ended, they had grown up, he had gone one way and Blaise had gone the other. And now all Draco had to show for his loyalty to the half-blood bastard was a slimy tattoo slapped on his arm and a trunk full of things he'd hastily grabbed from his room at Malfoy Manor.

And here he was, staring up at the apartment building in wizarding London, snow falling around him, boots sinking into the slush, lips steadily turning blue with the cold. Taking a deep breath that brought stabbing cold pain to freeze the insides of his lungs, he raised his hand and opened the door.

Apartment 12D, here he came.

…

Blaise levitated his dirtied plates into the sink, letting the warm water eat away at the hardened gunk on the ceramic. Now that his roommate was back, he could actually pretend to have a life now.

Wondering if living vicariously through a woman who shagged a different man every week, sometimes forgot to flush the toilet, usually brushed her teeth only once a day, and shaved twice a week was something he shouldn't be proud of, Blaise flopped onto his newly vacated sofa, kicking off his shoes as the sound of water running migrated through the flat.

He was just contemplating why he'd even been wearing shoes when they were such annoyingly uncomfortable buggers when someone knocked on the door to the apartment. Wondering who would have braved such nasty weather to come see him and his infamously capricious witch of a roommate, he unlatched the door lock and opened it.

A tall man with matted blonde hair and a thick, overgrown beard stood in his doorway, a trunk at his feet and a sopping wet broomstick over his shoulder. Blaise gasped as the man broke out a rough smile. "Zabini, mate! Mind if I crash here for a while?"

"Malfoy?"

Blaise reminded himself that he was a grown man and that grown men don't stand and openly ogle at people standing patiently on their doorstep.

Still, he stood and openly ogled at the man standing patiently on his doorstep. The man made a motion as if to shuffle his feet and then thought better of it; or perhaps he just felt it was too far below him.

The motion broke Blaise's concentration on his ogle-fest and he snapped back to attention and reality. "Malfoy…please, come in." he said, recalling something his roommate had once tried to teach him called hospitality or something of the like.

The blonde man at the doorstep picked up his trunk and swept past Blaise's outstretched welcoming arm. As Blaise closed and re-locked the door behind him, Draco let out a low whistle of admiration. "Bloody hell, Zabini. You've done well." He said, touching his fingers to one of the greyish blue walls. "Never thought you'd be the type to live in a nice place like this." He turned slightly to Blaise. "No offence." He grinned.

Blaise smiled back and offered him a seat and a drink. He accepted both. "So, what're you doing so far from Malfoy Manor?" Blaise asked, dropping tea leaves into the cracked pot he'd been meaning to replace. Draco settled himself at the kitchen table. "I left home." Blaise dropped the teacup he was holding. Muttering a quick "_Reparo_" under his breath, he turned back to Malfoy.

"You left? For good?" he asked, surprise weighing down his voice. Draco shrugged, fingering his thick beard. "One day I just thought 'why stay? Mum's dead. Lucius treats me like dirt. Why not leave?'. You did. So I decided I would too." He shrugged carelessly.

But Blaise knew the magnificent consequences such a move meant. After all, he himself had made the same decision once. It had been the most dangerous thing he'd ever done, including tacking his roommate's knickers up on the living room ceiling. He was the only heir to the Zabini fortune and lands. His father needed an heir and fresh blood for his precious Lord Voldemort. Blaise had refused. Sometimes during the early days, with almost no food and nowhere to live, he wondered if he shouldn't have just accepted the Dark Mark and followed in his father's footsteps as Draco had done.

But now, standing in his own home, with a decent job and a fantastic friend and roommate, staring at Malfoy, who looked like he'd gone through hell (and probably had), Blaise thanked his determination and resolution in those rough early days.

"What did Lucius say?" he asked, splitting the silence. Draco shrugged again, pulling off his beaten travelling cloak. "The usual. Beat me, hexed me, threatened to disown me, actually _did_ disown me, threatened to kill my mother, then realized he already had, threatened to kill me…" he stroked his chin. "I didn't like that one too much. So I left." He said simply. Blaise wasn't sure he wanted to know just how Draco had left. He may not have lived with a Slytherin in ten years, but he knew their ways well as his own; there were some things you just really did not want to know.

"So, I didn't really have any money. I've been staying at a cheap inn and tavern for the past few days, but I'm running out of money. I thought perhaps…" he paused here, looking for once in his life, uncertain "…I saw your advertisement for a flatmate a few years back. You ran it for exactly a year, so I thought perhaps you'd never found someone…actually I'm rather hoping you never found someone who would willingly put up with you." He grinned wryly, and it was as if all the years between them had vanished. They were seventeen and reckless again.

It was at that point that they heard the bathroom door open and close.

"Blaise! You rotten little twit, you used the last towel!" a female voice shouted, echoing off the walls. "Don't come back here, I'm starkers." The woman warned teasingly. Blaise snorted. He'd seen her with not a stitch more times than he could count. She wasn't exactly the timid thing she'd been as a girl. A door slammed somewhere in the back of the apartment. There was a chorused string of vague mutterings.

Draco turned in his seat, an eyebrow arched in the exact replica of the one he'd scared so many firsties with at Hogwarts. Such fond memories…

"Girlfriend? Or…please tell me you're not married?" he asked, looking horribly reviled. So he was still as gamophobic as he was in Hogwarts. As his dorm-mate, Blaise had quickly learned never to mention marriage or long-term commitment to Draco.

Blaise shook his head. "No, not married. And er…she's not my girlfriend, either." Somewhere in his mind, the little four-year-old in him went 'eeeewww' at the very thought of his roommate being his girlfriend. Draco arched an eyebrow. "Random fuck?" he asked. Blaise rolled his eyes. Still as blunt as ever.

"No, she's…well, she's my roommate." Blaise said, feeling the awkwardness of the situation. Draco simply nodded, though. "I thought as much. I mean, I entertained the hope for a while, but I figured you'd found someone." His brow suddenly furrowed. "Wait, you live with a woman you're not shagging?" he asked. Blaise nodded furiously, the twenty-seven-year-old man in him going 'eeeewww'.

"No, we're not, nor were we ever, nor will we ever be together." Blaise said convincingly. She was his best friend…that would just be wrong. Like falling for Draco…Blaise scooted away from Draco unnoticeably. "She's my best mate. I mean, for a girl, she's bloody great." He must have looked strange because Draco peered at him curiously.

"What was that look?" he asked suspiciously. Blaise startled himself into arching an eyebrow in perfect Slytherin fashion. "What look?" he asked. Draco rolled his eyes, grinning like mad. "That look that says 'she's the greatest thing that ever happened to me and I want to shag her like mad and marry her and have kids with her…'" he trailed off as Blaise was beginning to look rather sick. She was his best _mate_…no, no, no, and again, no.

"Guess not." Draco said, now smirking. Blaise shook his head, trying to rid it of images he desperately wanted to cleanse from his brain. "Don't get me wrong," Blaise explained "she's one-of-a-kind and probably is the greatest thing that ever happened to me…" he paused, for the first time realizing that his words were true…she was the best thing to happen to him probably since Draco.

"…but she's just your friend." Draco finished. Blaise breathed evenly, grinning. "My best friend." Draco assumed a wounded expression. "I remember a time when you said I was your best friend." Blaise snorted. "And I remember a time where you told me to fuck off because I was a stupid, dark, burly gorilla." Draco scoffed. "Oh, you're going to bring up things from when we were eleven?" Blaise arched an eyebrow. "You brought up things from when we were seventeen." He reminded him. "Oh, what, and the mentality didn't change?" Draco asked.

Blaise shook his head. "Of course not."


	3. The Meating

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Hey you stinking Beezlebubs. This is your jezebel speaking. Whazzup? Newfound colloquialism located in my body's hard-drive. Annoying, yet acutely amusing. Enough with that. Here's the fearful, loathe, dreaded third chapter. That's right, run for your virtual lives. It's here. So, sit back, relax, and let the madness and chaotically one-dimensional characters and structurally-retarded plot line deliver you into the hands of the worst brain aneurism you're likely to ever have.

It's a doozy.

**DISCLAIMER:** Not mine if it belongs to J. K. Rowling.

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**Mistaken Liaisons**

**Chapter Three: The Meating**

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Two hours later, Draco finally stretched and glanced at the kitchen clock. It was an odd clock with two hands, but on the end of one hand was a picture of Blaise and at the end of the other was a picture of some girl; Draco supposed it was his roommate.

"I should probably get going, then." He said, turning back to Blaise. Blaise furrowed his brow. "Where are you going to go?" he asked curiously. Draco shrugged. "Back to the inn, I guess. I've been looking for a job, but no one wants to hire a former Death Eater. Loads of people still believe I am a Death Eater." He exhaled heavily through his nose, standing.

Blaise stood as well and blocked the doorway. "In that case, you're not going anywhere. You're staying here with us." He said, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Draco arched an eyebrow, eyes wandering to the back of the flat, which had been eerily quiet for the past two hours.

Blaise followed his gaze. "She won't mind…well," he paused, thinking "she might…no, she probably will…but even if she does, she's far too in love with me to say no." he put on a wide-eyed, innocent and yet sensual face that had led him through the knickers of almost half the population of Hogwarts. Draco snickered heartily, remembering the puddles of girls that had resulted from that look back in Hogwarts. "You sure?" he asked, heart beating irregularly; he had no inn to go back to.

Blaise shrugged. "You can camp in my room; I'll take the couch." Draco moved to protest but Blaise held up a silencing hand. "I sleep there all the time when people come and stay with us. Besides, though you're the biggest bastard I've ever met (and remember, I used to be involved in politics, so that's saying something) you're Slytherin. I insist," he added, as Draco opened his mouth to say something.

Draco smirked somewhat stiffly. "Thanks, mate." Blaise grinned back, a little uneasily. "Don't thank me just yet. You haven't met my roommate yet. She's not the easiest person to live with." He said carefully, just in case she was listening in on their conversation…he wouldn't put it past her.

Draco arched an eyebrow sophisticatedly. It was a trick all Slytherins learned if they weren't already schooled in the fine art of elegance. "Who is she?" he asked curiously. "Do I know her?"

Blaise shifted restlessly, his dark gaze skewering the doorway to the back of the flat, as if staring hard enough would enable him to see through the woodwork. "Erm…you might." He said shiftily. Draco was immediately suspicious. "She went to Hogwarts, didn't she?" he asked. Blaise nodded.

"Please tell me you're not expecting me to share a flat with the filthy Mudblood." Draco pleaded. Blaise snorted, half with humour, half with relief. "No, no. It's not her. No, she wasn't in our year, so you might not remember her…" Blaise was wondering if this was a good idea; he knew perfectly well that Draco knew her.

"Well, who is it?" Draco asked impatiently. Blaise's eyes darted to the back of the apartment again. "Erm, it's…er…well…" he wondered what was making him so nervous; she would understand. Draco should understand; they were both adults now…

"Iknowit'sstrangebutmyroommate'sginevraweasley." Blaise mumbled unintelligibly under his breath. Draco blinked. "What?" he asked. Blaise took a deep breath. _This is ridiculous, man. He was your best friend, she is your best friend, they're both grown, mature adults, they can handle this one thing, there's no need to get so uptight._

He took a deep breath. "I know it's strange and you're going to think I'm completely insane, but my roommate's Ginevra Weasley." He said steadily.

Silence.

"WHAT!"

…

Ginny flinched as someone shouted from the living room. She wiped her running nose and eyes, trying to fix the red streak that had jumped across her canvas at the sudden noise.

After a few seconds fruitless struggle, she gave it up and began to integrate the streak into the picture. It was not a happy picture; slashes and swirls and dark clouds sprinkling droplets of rain-paint all over the half-finished canvas.

She was in one of her moods again. Temperamental as hell, she earned the title of Weasley. When she was really pissed she shouted and fumed and screamed, but never cried. Crying was something she'd gotten over after years with six rough older brothers, as well as delicacy and her timidity, much to her mother's disapproval.

But when she was upset, she went to her canvases. She had dozens; small ones, medium ones, long ones, square ones, every shape and size; she got whatever she could afford. Right now she was rather depressed and moody for no good reason and that made her even angrier; she left Blaise alone because she was sure she'd lash out at him and that was just something she didn't want to do.

Oddly enough, even with six older brothers, all their significant others and children, childhood friends, school friends, and friends from her work, Blaise was Ginny's best mate. Everyone thought it strange; a man and a woman best friends.

Ginny had just managed to smear blue paint across her cheek and was trying to wipe it off when another loud explosion of human noise detonated in the living room. Curious and pushed out of her depressed funk, she quietly pushed the door handle down and slid out the door.

She tip-toed down the narrow hall, avoiding spots she knew where the floorboards creaked, and stopped just short of the doorway leading to the living room. She could hear two voices, both male. She knew one was Blaise and listened interestedly and brazenly at the door, tuning into the conversation.

"Are you insane?" that was the alien voice, yet it struck a chord in Ginny somewhere; she knew that voice, but it didn't match up to any that she recalled. She heard Blaise snort. "Well, yeah." He scoffed. Ginny felt herself grinning; dried paint at the corner of her mouth cracking as her lips twisted up.

"Of course you are, but honestly Zabini? A Weasley? That little scraggly carrot-headed bean sprout that worshipped Potter and feared her own shadow? However do you manage?" Ginny bristled, almost baring her teeth. There was only one voice, one person, one complete and utter bastard who could manage to form her name with such a banging level of disgust.

She strode into the room, head held high on her strong neck, looking absolutely composed and haughty for someone with yellow paint halfway up her right nostril.

"Hullo, Malfoy. Care for a spot of tea?"


	4. The Request

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Hey everybody. Back. Without improvement. Feeling depressed. And too lazy to write in complete sentences. Stupid grammtically-incorrect cow, it's all those stylebook-discs-of-doom's faults. Anyhoodles, here's the next chappie. Goddamn, what on my green earth is wrong with me? I've entered the Twilight Zone! Na-nee-nah-na-na-nee-nah-na...wait a tic...47 grams of sugar? Well, that explains it...note to self; stop accepting drinks from friends who cannot be labelled as 100-percent trustworthy. Am not feeling so depressed anymore. But will when see loads of flames. Or worse...nothing.

Damn.

**DISCLAIMER:** Not mine if it belongs to J.K. Rowling.

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**Mistaken Liaisons**

**Chapter Four: The Request

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**

Blaise was smiling so broadly it almost hurt. Ginny slid her eyes along over to him and secreted a wink at him. He smiled broader, certain he would split his face in half. Draco was looking absolutely gobsmacked, his mouth hanging open as he took in the littlest Weasley who was…well, not so little anymore.

Blaise had to hand it to the woman; when she wanted to make an impression, she had the strength and cunning of a Slytherin and the means to do so. Even now, standing in front of them in only a somewhat revealing pair of shorts and a little white vest, entirely paint-spattered with paint smeared all over her face and hands, she looked imposing.

Draco finally found his voice. "Weaselette?" he coughed, voice sounding strained. Blaise snickered and put another one lost to the Ginny-magnetism. She tilted her head back, peering down her blue nose at him.

"I prefer Weasley, which, unless you really never did figure out what all those little squiggly inked things on paper mean, is my real surname. Leave it to a Malfoy to laud his intelligence and perfection over others and yet still be illiterate." She sneered in a drawl that matched Draco's in contempt and sarcasm.

Blaise fought a grin; he knew it would do no good to encourage this, especially if they were to all live in one household together. He nearly lost it though, when Ginny flashed him a brash, triumphant smile. That brought Draco back over the edge.

"I wouldn't expect you to know much about literacy, _Weaselette_." Draco spat at a last snatch to regain his previous composure. Ginny, however, simply turned back to him with a coolly simmering, almost patronizing smile. "Welcome back, Malfoy. I'd thought we'd lost you." She smirked. "But where are my manners?" she said and Blaise knew that wasn't the end of it. "Just because you have none doesn't mean I shouldn't." she thrust her hand, black and purple, out.

Draco stared at it pointedly, not bothering to hide his disgust. Ginny rolled her eyes and wiped her hand deliberately on her shirt, spreading a healthy blackish-purple streak down the white. She stuck her hand out to Malfoy.

"Ginevra Weasley, delighted to make your acquaintance." Draco wasn't quite sure what to make of this, so he took her hand briefly in his. "Enchanted." He drawled, a smirk flashing over his features as he brushed his lips over Ginny's knuckles.

She slipped a glance at Blaise that quite clearly stated that he was either going to owe her exceedingly or he was going to die a very painful death. Ginny pulled her hand away, gesturing towards the sofa. "Please do sit; I'll be right back." She shot a withering glare at Blaise that was not without its humour, before sweeping out of the room.

Draco turned to Blaise, an odd, glowing look about his drawn countenance. Blaise saw a familiar look in his eyes and let out a laugh. Draco's lips slid down into a confused frown. "What?" he asked curiously. Blaise grinned knowingly. "You've got it bad, mate." Draco arched an eyebrow. "What are you on about?" he asked, sinking down into the pouf across from the two-person couch Blaise was sitting on.

"She's changed since school, hasn't she?" Blaise asked with a smirk. Draco shrugged. "She's just as filthy and stupid as she was then." He snarked, waiting for Blaise's accompanying laugh.

It never came.

"Merlin…you really do like her, don't you?" Draco asked in awe as Blaise said nothing. "She's my best mate, Draco. Just try to get along with her and don't call her anything that'll make me have to re-grow any of your appendages." He asked in a low voice as Ginny swept back into the room, having scoured the living hell out of her face and arms with a spell.

She came back into the room in a pair of Blaise's old jeans Draco actually remembered from Hogwarts. She slung herself casually onto the couch, landing next to Blaise and tucking her head into the nook of his shoulder so comfortably that Draco suddenly knew this was something they were used to doing. They had a weird bond that didn't allow for any awkward discomfort.

Ginny jabbed an elbow into Blaise's ribs. "Retaliation." She spat under her breath. Blaise smirked and hung an arm over her shoulder. Draco was wondering if Blaise was gay; he knew he wouldn't be able to have a girl like that in his reach without… 'standing up'. He shook his head slightly, reviewing his own thoughts. _She's a Weasley, Weasley, Weasley, Weasley, Weasley…_

"So, Malfoy. What are you up to these days? Working?" she asked, only slightly maliciously. Malfoys never worked for money. Draco sneered at her. "Not currently. You?" he asked, knowing perfectly well what the answer was; the whole wizarding world had seen her disgraceful dismissal from the Ministry of Magic's Auror division in the Daily Prophet. Ginny growled, fisting her hands in Blaise's pants. "Oh, just writing here and there." She gritted out, soothed only slightly by the thumb Blaise was rubbing gently on her wrist.

Ginny took a deep breath and settled back into a more relaxed position, damned if she would be riled up by a Malfoy. "So, what are you doing in town?" Ginny asked pleasantly, forcing manners and good-nature into her voice for Blaise's sake. Right now she hated them both, but she figured sooner or later she'd have to start liking Blaise again because he was her best mate and currently had her shampoo, which she would eventually want back. As much as she hated him, Malfoy was Blaise's best friend from Hogwarts, and that was just something she would have to put up with. A sudden outburst of cold sweat broke over her brow; pain swept through her in a dull flash and her pulse speeded as she wondered if this meant Draco was now Blaise's best mate. She didn't want to lose the best friendship she'd ever had, especially to Malfoy.

Draco shook himself out of his moniker mantra and turned a questioning glance up to Blaise, realizing Weasley had just asked the question only she herself could answer. Blaise wrapped both arms around Ginny, resting his chin on her shoulder. Ginny didn't even bother turning to look at his face. "What do you want?" she asked impatiently and a tad bit snappishly.

Blaise was idly drawing little figure eights on her arm. "Erm…well, you see…Draco has sort of…run away from his father's home…he's left the Death Eaters, you see…and he doesn't really have any money and…" he took a shallow breath as he felt Ginny stiffen slightly. He plunged ahead before she could cut him down.

"…andhedoesn'thaveaplacetostayandItoldhimhecouldstayherewithus." He breathed very quickly, wondering what it was about the two of them that made him so edgy. Perhaps it was the fact that they were both capable of, and willing to kill each other. Draco hadn't caught but a few words of that and had no idea what Blaise had said.

Ginny had. Blaise could tell she was displeased; her nostrils were flaring ever so slightly and he could see angry, red blood rushing through her veins and seeping up the backs of her ears and neck. She breathed in and let it out through her nose, closing her eyes.

When she opened them, her pulse had reduced to normal. "I'm sorry we don't have an extra room; however, I'm sure we can find a place for you to sleep. This place is rather small, so I suppose you could share a room with one of us…" she trailed off, not wanting to actually go so far as to offer him her room when she really didn't want him staying…not if it could jeopardize her friendship with Blaise.

"We already have." Blaise said, more than a little frightened at her gracious hostess attitude. He felt relief wash over him as Ginny pinched his side; she was pissed, but not angry. _Good,_ he thought, picking her up by the waist and swinging her around.

Draco watched as the two scrabbled around and fought. The girl Weasley had certainly changed…and Draco was finding he didn't mind the transition. Ginny turned around facing Blaise and started pummelling the pillow he was holding up as a shield. Draco stared at her arse…no, he really didn't mind the transition…

…

Much later that night, Draco really couldn't fight the yawn trying to escape his lips. Ginny immediately noticed and slapped Blaise on the back of the head. "Zabini, you git, shut up. Our guest" she stressed it slightly, hinting at distaste so only Blaise would hear it "is tired and no one really wants to know exactly what you did with Parkinson on the floor in Moaning Myrtle's lavatory." She said, getting up off the couch.

"Well, I think I'll turn in as well." Ginny said, not looking vaguely tired. She turned as Blaise stood and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "'Night Blaise." She said cheerily, not forgetting to add a whispered 'I'm going to murder you in your sleep and make it look like an accident' into his ear as she turned back to Draco.

"'Night, Malfoy." She said, a little harshly, sticking her hand out to shake. Draco took it in his and kissed her knuckles again. Ginny merely rolled her eyes, snatched her hand away with a strained smile, and strode from the room. Blaise saw her wiping the back of her hand on his jeans to rid it of Malfoy-slobber as she disappeared into her room.

Once Blaise had shown Draco into his room and gathered some of his clothes and necessities, he walked back into the living room. He glanced once at the sofa with blatant dislike and turned on heel out of the living room.

…

He peeked through the crack in the door.

He smirked with what was bordering on glee as he slipped into the room, noting that she was indeed, wearing clothes. For once. He made his way to the bed, once again wondering how she ended up with the bigger bed. He frowned momentarily, noticing that the only sleep cover she had was a single patchwork quilt one. He got cold and liked to have a good, thick blanket.

Sighing and surrendering himself to a cold night next to a warm-blooded woman, he slid under the soft cover. He stared at Ginny, watching her sleep. Or at least pretend to. He reached out and punched her stomach. Her brow furrowed and he saw her intentionally pout her lower lip in a movement that had led her through many men's beds.

"I'm sleeping." She grumbled tiredly, rubbing her stomach. "Go find your own bed, Zabini." Blaise grinned as she blindly smacked him across the face and, moving in closer, stared at her face. She flicked one eye open and promptly turned over, her back to him. He frowned slightly.

"Sparky?" he asked tentatively, using his favourite nickname. She said nothing. Blaise's frown was on full-blast now. "Alright," he said gruffly, flipping her over and pulling himself to sit on her waist. She let out a whoompf of breath; he was no pixy. "What's wrong?" he asked gruffly.

"Fuck Zabini, get off." She breathed, sounding very strangled. He scooted back, sitting on the tops of her thighs resolutely. "I'm not getting off until you tell me what's wrong." He pestered. She frowned and looked away, crossing her arms over her chest stubbornly. "Nothing." She growled. Blaise rolled his eyes.

Taking her chin in his fingers, he turned her to face him. "Don't play stupid with me, wench…I know every trick and move in your book and something's gotten under your skin. Is it Draco?" he asked.

The way her eyes flickered up to his for a moment and the way her arm muscles clenched told him he was bang on. He sighed. "Listen, I know he's a bastard most of the time…but just give him a chance; he's got things rough and for it all, he's a fine enough bloke, really. He gave up the Malfoy name and fortune and left his family and home."

She nodded and it occurred to him that she knew all this. For a Weasley, she was damned clever. No, it was something else that was bothering her. "Mm-hmm. I know. He's a great bloke, no doubt. Good friend." Her teeth were definitely grinding now.

And suddenly, Blaise grew a brain. He knew, as if a sudden bolt of lightning had crashed down…

She was jealous.

Ginny glared up at him as he started laughing, knowing that he was laughing at her for some reason. "Well, I'm glad someone finds this amusing." She drawled in annoyance, trying to roll over and turn her back to him. He pinned her down, still trying to maintain his laughter.

"You-you're jealous!" he laughed, amazed to no wit's end. He could feel Ginny's glare sizzling his black hair. "And what have I to be jealous of a no-good rotten twit of a bastard ferret like Malfoy for, eh?" she snarled, angry that he was laughing at her and enraged that he'd read her so easily.

"Oi, Sparky…" he said, ceasing his laughter as her eyes blazed angrily. "You stupid little chit…you're my best mate, you know that, right?" she shrugged her shoulders in an admittedly infantile manner, refusing to look at him. He made a grumbling noise deep in the back of his throat and pulled her face over to his. "Right?" he asked, staring her down. She narrowed her eyes and nodded once. "And no matter how many of my old Slytherin mates come to live with us, you'll still be the only person who can annoy the hell out of me the way you do and still live, right?" Ginny felt her mouth quirking up in a grin.

"Can I have your word on that?" she asked.

Blaise was about to answer when suddenly there was a fist in his stomach and they were once more rolling around and fighting, as if absolutely nothing had happened.

They stopped to allow Ginny to reset Blaise's nose, deciding one broken nose was good enough for tonight. They collapsed back down on the bed and Ginny tucked her head into Blaise's chest, asleep in minutes.

…

The next morning came far too quickly. Draco stumbled from the room Blaise had left him in. The hallway was dimly lit and he nearly ran into a wall a couple of times. He managed to make it to the kitchen without killing himself.

Blaise was at the kitchen table, taking large gulps out of a coffee mug and looking a little tired. Draco glanced once over at the unmade, unused sofa and arched an eyebrow. "Still haven't shagged her yet?" he smirked.

Blaise glowered at Draco as he took the seat across from him. "Have not, nor will not." He stated firmly, trying to keep down what he was drinking. "I don't know what kind of incest they practice at Malfoy Manor, but I for one, wouldn't even imagine ever shagging my sister. And Ginny's more like a sister to me than anything…besides being my best mate." He added thoughtfully.

Draco nodded, eyes flickering over to the back of the house. "Is she with anyone?" he asked, a spark of interest in his voice that did not go unnoticed by Blaise. He shot Draco a look. "I'm not sure…she goes through them like tissues…you'll have to ask her. Why?" he asked, trying not to grin.

Draco covered his arse nicely, though. "No reason…just curious. I didn't think any man would let his girl live in the same house as a young, handsome, randy Slytherin male." He said, adding in a smirk of his own. Blaise grinned. "That's not true," he said thoughtfully, looking at Draco appraisingly "you're not _that_ handsome, Malfoy." He smirked.

Draco glowered, on the verge of saying an unnecessary and rather petulant 'I was talking about you' when an owl flew in through the window. Blaise took the letter attached to its leg and opened it as the owl flew off. Draco watched as Blaise read the letter over.

Rolling his eyes, Blaise tossed the letter into the sink carelessly. "Excuse me, will you, Draco? Apparently the famous, renowned, world-wide sensationalist Lei Chang, associate head of Solid, the largest magazine in western Europe, needs my help figuring out where she misplaced her favourite quill." He sounded far too disgruntled for Draco to assume that this was something Blaise was going to enjoy.

Draco snorted. "So…are you shagging _her?_" He was hit with a wave of nostalgia at the infamous 'Death Glare' Blaise sent him that was reminiscent of the one he had seen so many, many times during his days in Slytherin.

"I'll take that as a yes."

…

Ginny rolled over onto her side. It took her a moment to wonder why she felt so strange in her own bed before she fell over the side with a thump. Trying to figure out just exactly how she managed to fall off a bed that could have housed Crabbe, Goyle, and Hagrid easily, she climbed back on the bed, grumbling now at the nauseating thought about who her mind had just placed in her bed together.

As soon as she figured out how to manipulate her muscles into cohesion, she was so Disinfecting her bed.

She was just in the process of drifting off into a deadened sleep when she heard her door creak open. Her hand slid noiselessly under her pillow as someone entered her room. Those weren't Blaise's footsteps…she knew Blaise's footsteps as well as her own.

The foreign footsteps continued into her room even farther, the door closing almost silently behind them. When she calculated whoever it was in her room was by her bed, she bolted up. Catching the stranger at the neck, she shoved him up against her wall, her wand at his throat. His very, very smooth and freshly shaven throat smelled of Blaise's shaving cream.

She stepped back, staring at the smooth-faced young blonde man goggling at her. "Malfoy?" she asked in surprise, wondering why Draco Malfoy was standing in her room even as the events of the previous night came flooding back to her. "Oh…" she said simply, pocketing her wand and running a hand through her sleep-tousled hair.

Draco was still staring down at her as though she was some new and interesting species he'd just discovered. She felt acutely awkward and sidled past him, running into the safety of the bathroom and it's most amazing feature; a locked door. Turning the locking mechanism behind her, she settled herself on top of the toilet lid, putting her head in her hands.

How the bloody hell was she supposed to live with Malfoy?


	5. Life or Close Enough

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Impressive reviews. **IssaLee**, don't you dare tell me what happens in the fourth Harry Potter movie...my two best friends went to go see it opening day without me and I probably won't see it until it come out on T.V. because I can't drive and my parents are lame-ass dipwads who won't take me anywhere. I wonder if I can ride my bike to the mall...only about twenty bajillion miles...anyway, never mind, I'm high on sugar again, so whoooooooooo yeah. O.K. So, here's chapter five. Um...to whoever was wondering, Draco just got lost and managed his way into Ginny's room. However, his subconscious may have been awake...shut up, stop giving away the story line...fine, you overbearing bitch, but shut up because now they're gonna think you're schitzophrenic...you don't even know how to spell schitzophrenic...it's close enough and neither do you...fine, just shut up...you're the second voice, I was here first, so shove off...

Psycho, I know. Worry for me. But here's chapter five. Hope you like it. I did. But then again, I think the seventies were kick-ass and I'm currently high off of one too many coka-coka-coka-colas. Wheeeeeeeeee! Shut up, you stupid little fucker... I hate you...shut up, pidgey-dove...you bitch! that's the secret nickname no one is ever supposed to hear! gonna kill you...you're schitzophrenic, how about thinking that one out...fuck...yeah, fuck-tard...shut the hell up and let's get on with the story...my idea...

**DISCLAIMER: **Not mine if it belongs to J. K. Rowling.

* * *

**Mistaken Liaisons**

**Chapter Five: Life or Close Enough

* * *

**

Draco was in the kitchen when Ginny finally decided to come out of the bathroom…more because she was extremely hungry than any uncharacteristic and frankly suicidal urge to be in the presence of the world's gittiest git. Trying her best to ignore Malfoy, who soon scooted off to Blaise's room, much to her delight, Ginny set herself to leftovers.

She was just chewing thoughtfully on a bit of stale toast when an owl flew up to the closed window and settled on the sill. It must have slipped on the snow-covered sill, because after a moment it disappeared. Ginny rushed over to the window just in time to haul the floundering bird up and into the warm room.

Closing the window behind her, she set the familiar-looking owl down and removed the letter it was carrying. She opened it enthusiastically, nearly ripping the parchment in her haste.

She let out a scream of triumphant joy just as Blaise Apparated into the living room, looking thoroughly exhausted and sweaty. Ginny's joy dissipated as she saw the weary look on Blaise's face. "Lei lost another quill?" she asked sympathetically, setting her letter down on the table, momentarily forgotten.

Blaise snorted, shedding his robes achingly. "I swear…I never thought I'd say this, but perhaps there is such thing as too much shagging." He said, settling tiredly into a kitchen chair, kicking his legs out straight and slouching in his chair.

Ginny laughed, waving her wand at the teapot, which began to fill itself with steaming water. "And I never thought I'd hear you say it." She grinned, levitating various herbs and ingredients into the pot. Blaise sunk forward, his head falling neatly into his hands.

Ginny poured two cups of tea, setting one down in front of Blaise, who took it gratefully. "That woman will be the end of me." He grumbled, sipping the soothing fluid. Ginny cracked a grin. "Death by shagging?"

"Something like that." Blaise said, moving to set his cup down. Ginny quickly snatched a harassed piece of parchment up from the table, rescuing it from the underside of Blaise's teacup. Blaise noticed as she carefully and indiscreetly tried to hide it under the table. He snatched onto it at once.

Ginny growled as Blaise held it just out of her reach. "Love letters, Sparky?" he asked, eyes glinting evilly. Ginny flushed and in seconds Blaise's chair had toppled over backwards and Ginny was sprawled out on Blaise's chest, still reaching for her letter. Blaise had somehow managed to keep his head about him and hold it away from her.

Ginny growled deep in the back of her throat in a very primal way, lunging once more for the letter in Blaise's far-stretching hand. It was at that moment that Draco chose to make his grand reappearance. He tilted his head to the side.

"Still just friends, I take it?" he asked, eying their ridiculously intimate position. Blaise's face had been buried in Ginny's chest with her lunge and one of her legs was between his. Ginny snarled and used Blaise's distraction as an opportunity to grab the letter. Shoving it in a safe place (in the snug confines of her bra), she rushed out of the room.

Blaise glanced up from the floor. Draco was leaning against the doorframe nonchalantly, smirking like a cat with canary feathers inconspicuously smeared over its teeth. "Still haven't shagged her, then?" he asked. Blaise would have done something in retaliation, but at that moment he glanced over Draco's shoulder and in a second, became Draco, feline smirk and all.

Draco's own smirk dropped as he turned. Ginny was standing right behind him, her hands on her hips and her upper lip curled back in a growl. "Forgot something." She muttered, stepping into the room and stopping right next to Draco. "You-" she said, pointing to Blaise, still on the floor "-stay out of my mail, hear?" she said warningly.

Draco was once more smirking at Blaise, this time for being told off by a woman. Without looking and unexpectedly, Ginny's hand came up and connected with the back of Draco's head, snapping the blonde cranium forward. Blaise's laughter and Draco's curses followed Ginny all the way down the hall as she closed herself into her room.

Life wasn't so bad after all.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Blaise stirred from a deep sleep as something nudged his nether regions. He groaned a bit in the back of his throat and went back to his dream of this incredibly sexy blonde bombshell in his bed. She flipped her perfect blonde hair over her shoulder and began to undo her bra, rubbing against him underneath her.

Again something nudged him…and this time it hit the family jewels. He groaned again and woke up, his beautiful Aphrodite disappearing with a nearly audible pop!. He glanced down and saw red. Lots of it. It took him a moment to get his bearings and realize where he was and what the redness was.

He was in Ginny's room…in her bed…and she was the redness. Sometime in the middle of the night she must have rolled over (he knew from previous experience that she was not a still sleeper and had been kicked or elbowed once or twice, though he really wasn't sure if she'd actually been asleep) and she was now facing him, snuggled against his chest.

He looked down at her fondly. He loved the way she was so…openly physical. He supposed it came from growing up with six older brothers, but he rather liked it. Sometimes it was nice to come back from a date gone wrong and just have someone who was willing to hold you and comfort you and then afterwards punch you for being a git and get you drunker than hell so you forgot it all.

He remembered one time when they'd gone for a stroll in the park and Blaise's feet had been hurting from new shoes. Ginny had picked him up on her back and carried him home. She might have stumbled and tripped and fell a few dozen times, (some accidentally, some on purpose so she could laugh as he was attacked by the little old lady he'd been dropped onto) but it was the fact that she didn't care what anyone else might think…Blaise liked that.

When Draco had been his best friend, it was all laughter and distance. He couldn't remember actually ever touching him. Not that that was a bad thing by any degree. But Ginny would just as soon as jump on you as look at you. And it was nice…and fun…she'd make a great mum someday…

He was jerked unceremoniously out of his thoughts as Ginny shifted about a bit and for the third time something touched his off-limits-zone. He glanced down and noticed (with appropriate horror) that her legs were entwined with his and the one between his was a little higher than best mates were allowed to go.

Blissfully unaware, Ginny snored on as Blaise tried to disentangle himself from her before she woke up. He gently pulled away, careful not to move too quickly. He nearly had a heart attack when the mattress springs gave a rather loud squeak and Ginny stirred.

"Mmm…Darby…get…" she muttered, before rolling on her other side, taking the offending leg with her. Blaise breathed a sigh of relief, scooting off the bed and wondering which of her shags Darby was, why he hadn't heard about him, why he hadn't gotten her drunk trying to forget about him, and whether a scouring charm would do permanent damage to 'Blaise Junior'.

…….

"Damn." Blaise spat, tossing the letter onto the table in disgust as he emptied his morning cup of coffee into a potted plant on the counter. Draco arched an eyebrow. Blaise groaned and got to his feet, heading to his bedroom. Draco followed. He watched as Blaise gathered things to change into.

"Listen, Draco…my boss has called together a meeting last minute to discuss the centrespread idea. Apparently some idiot down in Editing managed to lose every single transcript we've sent down and they need me to get in touch with the clients who'll not be featured this issue. Could you do me a couple of favours?" he asked, yanking his vest off and tossing into a basket angrily.

Draco, a little uneasy at the annoyance in his friend's voice, just nodded. "Sure, shoot." He said, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. Blaise pulled on a blue button-down. "First off, I need you to write to Janet Harper and tell her I won't make dinner tonight. Mercury knows where to take it; he's in Ginny's room. Second, tell Ginny where I've gone and tell her to meet me for lunch at the Ice Bird at half one. Third…I'm not sure when we'll be finished, and Ginny and I were supposed to go to this new art exhibit at Magic's Modern Masterpiece. It's only two blocks away and we had tickets. If I'm not back by seven, would you mind going with her?" he asked, pulling on a black robe over his Muggle clothes.

Draco arched his other eyebrow. "You want me to go look at paint slapped on a canvas by people with the artistic capacity of four-year-olds…with the Weaselette?" he sneered. Blaise sighed with relief. "Thanks so much, I knew you'd do it." And with that and a loud pop, he Apparated away.

…

….

Ginny woke up to the sound of someone creeping around her room. She felt around in the bed and found two things; one, that Blaise wasn't there (no big surprises, the damned early rising bastard) and two, her wand.

Raising it over her head she shouted "_Lumos!"_ and jumped to her feet. Illuminated by her wand's bright light, was Malfoy, standing in the corner trying to tie something to the leg of Ginny's owl.

"Malfoy, you great git, you scared the living hell out of me." She stated somewhat calmly, waiting for her rapid heartbeat to subside. He turned to her, a letter in his hand, and actually managed to look hangdog. "Sorry…Blaise asked for me to send a letter and I was trying not to wake you up…" he trailed off, eyes unfocusing as he reviewed his own words.

Ginny arched an eyebrow, sat back down on her bed, and slid her wand back under her pillow. "Trying not to wake me? Did you suddenly grow a conscience?" she snapped, rather unwarrantedly. Fuck. It was too early in the morning for civility towards anyone but Blaise. Scratch that; if Blaise woke her up this early, she'd castrate him as well. She slid down into the pillows.

Malfoy sneered at her, sending the owl plummeting out the window and closing it with a retaliating snap. "Excuse me, Weasley. I should have known you needed all the beauty sleep you can get; you sleep away a third of your life and yet you still look like shite." He growled.

Ginny was utterly unfazed. "Yeah, I know." She said casually, once more getting to her feet. She slunk over to him somewhat unwillingly and it was then (and only then) that Draco realized just how good she made boxers look. She finally reached him and gave him this wide-eyed gaze. Draco was struck. Her eyes were huge and sweet, swirling chocolate and mocha and cinnamon and lots of other yummy things for people like him with a serious sweet tooth and oh dear, was he going cannibalistic thinking about eating the Weasley woman's irises?

Within a second the offending confectionous visual organs were narrowed and piercing as she shoved him out of her way. "Seems men can't stay away from the look-like-shite aspect of me." She said, wriggling her hips as she emphasized the first syllable of 'aspect'. It didn't go by Draco unnoticed.

With a flourish and a snappy, crass insult, she was out of the room and in the bathroom.

…

It took all of Blaise's energy not to snap his quill in half. It didn't help that he kept imagining the feather was his boss's stupid twiggy body. He put the quill down and opted for drumming his blunt fingers on the oak tabletop; a line of attack sure to annoy the bloody skull and crossbones out of her.

Sure enough, a pair of slanted, almond, black eyes sliced across the briefing table to pin Blaise's offending fingers down. "Are we keeping you waiting, Mr. Zabini?" the associate head of the largest wizard's magazine in western Europe asked, a chill in her perfectly toned voice.

Blaise shook his head, managing to make his coal-black locks fall enticingly over his eyes in a way that was sure to drive any woman with a libido insane. So what if he wasn't classically handsome…he was dead sexy and he knew it. It helped him get through the tedious day-to-day life at the magazine. There's nothing like a fun game of shag-every-woman-in-the-office.

Lei noticed and she glanced furtively under black lashes at the rest of those gathered at the table. She cleared her throat. "That's all for today, kids. We'll work out the layout scan for page six later tonight. Go home and get some rest and be back by seven. Ratchell, Maise, Zabini, and Courk, I need you to stay after today and check with Martin and Stellers in Advertising and Design. Tell that arse from Weasley's Wizards Wheezes that they will be featured in the _next_ article and not at all if they send me one more package of 'fertilizer'". She fumed, rapping her nails on the table. "That's it, 'night all."

For a crazy second Blaise thought just maybe he'd be able to get home early and tell a sympathetic Ginny all about his rotten day with his lusty manager. It was such a stupid thought he felt like hitting himself for it later.

"Zabini," Lei called, just as he was about to file out of the room with his co-workers. Blaise made a silent plea to be able to get home not smelling like a man just been shagged. "A word, if you please." That was it. Those five magic words that doomed him.

Even the image of the slim Asian woman under him spread out on the briefing table did nothing to appease his rotten mood as he shagged her half to death. Or was it the other way around?

Death would be welcome right about now.


	6. Showers and Pancakes

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Right, so I'm not high off of anything right now. Well, alright, maybe I've had two cokes or so, but that's it. So, here's chapter six. I don't know why I'm updating this story and not my other one because I have less of this one actually written, but here it is. This is more Draco-Ginny interaction stuff. Ejoy. Twist at end, huzzah! Next chapter is a doozie. Hehe.

**DISCLAIMER: **Not mine if it belongs to J. K. Rowling.

* * *

**Mistaken Liaisons**

**Chapter Six: Showers and Pancakes

* * *

**

Within four minutes of her being in the shower, Draco was ready to kill himself.

It appeared…that Ginny Weasley was a shower singer. And it appeared…most unfortunately to Draco, who had at least two pillows clapped over each ear…that she wasn't very good.

He winced as she hit an off key that could kill half the population of China, not hearing the water turn off and the sounds cease.

Hands still shoved so far into his ears they grasped his own oesophagus and tried to throttle him, he stomped into the back of the apartment. Flinging the door open with a blast of his wand, he was all too prepared to hex her voice box out of her and chuck it down the toilet to fester with all the other shit in the world.

What he wasn't prepared for was to take on a full-grown, nicely proportional Weasley sans any kind of clothing but a small bath towel wrapped round her body. Barely. Said Weasley's eyes flew open in shock, her mouth falling open as well.

They both gawked at each other for an adequate five minutes before Ginny blinked, shook her head slightly and cleared her throat, breaking Draco from his abstraction. "Malfoy, could you hand me a towel, Blaise seems to have taken the last big one once again." She said smoothly, a trace of amused annoyance lining her voice as well as a desire to run very far away at a very fast pace and never look back.

Draco blinked repeatedly, as if trying to decide what was going on, why Weasley was so damn calm, and where the hell she'd gotten hips like that in the past ten years. Ginny scoffed and strode past him, bumping him with her shoulder. "Nevermind, I'll get it myself." She growled, stalking into Blaise's room as she cursed the momentous fall of the chivalric system that kept her in the company of such unmentionably un-knightly bastards.

She shuffled around in Blaise's ridiculously-clean-for-a-male laundry bin for a moment before coming up with a battered green towel. She dropped the small white one she was wearing, oblivious (or maybe just unconcerned) that Draco was standing agape in the doorway, and pulled the larger green one around her. "Better." She said to herself, wrapping her short hair in the small white towel.

She stopped her flouncing about at the doorway to arch an eyebrow at Draco for a moment before continuing on into the kitchen. Draco followed, shaking himself of the bad, bad, bad thoughts he'd been having centring Ginny Weasley. She was standing at the stove, waving her wand about at pans that moved about and did things Draco was entirely unaccustomed to.

"What the devil is that?" he asked, pointing to this weird, tan, cream-ish coloured thick liquid that was being allowed to heat and bubble over the flame. Ginny turned to him, stirring eggs with her wand. She looked from the pan, to him, and then back to the pan with a strange expression on her face as though she was having difficulty deciding whether to laugh or cry.

"Pancakes, Malfoy." She said slowly, staring at him. He stepped back a bit, peering at the now-sizzling batter with interest. "You have had pancakes before, haven't you?" Ginny asked, wondering if she laugh at his stupidity or cry at the thought that he'd never seen pancakes before. He turned to glare at her. "Of course I've had pancakes before, you culinary twit." He snarled, face grimacing before turning back to the batter as an invisible spatula flipped it over, revealing the golden brown underside. "But I didn't know this was how they started out…they're all…gooey." He said uncertainly.

She let out a laugh, flicking her wand at the butter, which shot over to the pancakes. "How very articulate of you, Malfoy. What, you've never made pancakes?" she asked curiously. He scoffed, not taking his eyes off the pancakes. "Of course not. That's what the house elves are-" he stopped, correcting himself almost bitterly "-_were_ for." He finished, pulling away with a disgusted look on his face and dropping into one of the seats at the kitchen table.

Ginny felt her mouth sliding into a frown and she pitied him, even though she was angry at herself for doing so. The boy had never made pancakes before. That was just plain sad. Ginny remembered when she was young, before she went to Hogwarts, her mum would wake her up every morning to make breakfast together in what Hermione later told her was a disgustingly 'Braidley Bunch' manner. Or something like that; Ginny never followed muggle television. Ginny wondered what kind of childhood Draco had had, and her frowned deepened. Somehow, Narcissa Malfoy didn't seem the 'hey, son, let's go make pancakes together' type anymore than Lucius seemed the 'let's go play Quidditch' type. Nope, the Malfoys certainly didn't seem very Braidley Bunch at all.

Sighing, knowing she would regret it later, she wiped her hands on the front of her towel. Flicking her wand, the food disappeared from the pans and reappeared on a large platter. Coming over to Draco, she grabbed his hand, pulling him up from the seat.

He seemed so surprised he didn't even pull away, only allowed her to pull him over to the stove. She pulled out some materials with her wand. Pulling out a large bowl, she turned to Draco. "First we start with the flour…"

……………

"Oh, fuck. Bloody buggering brainless bint!"

Draco arched one flour-dusted eyebrow. "Nice alliteration." He commented as Ginny flung her apron off and shoved her white-caked hands under the kitchen faucet. "You stupid nitwit." she berated herself angrily as she glanced once more at the clock, which showed Blaise's hand somewhere between 'lunch' and 'impatience'.

The clock underneath it showed Ginny she was almost an hour late to her lunch date with Blaise at the Ice Bird. Ginny tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, oblivious to the soggy flour still on her fingers, which she threaded into her red hair.

"Damn. I lost track of time." She glanced at the towering stack of pancakes looming impressively on the kitchen table. Once Draco had gotten the hang of it, he wanted to do it over, and over, and over…Ginny chalked it up to twenty-seven years of never having made a pancake. By which calculations, she reckoned Draco had outdone his quota by a few years.

"Listen, I've got to go meet Blaise for lunch. I won't be long…you want some lunch?" she asked, pulling off the boxers she'd thrown on while Draco was on his million and twelfth pancake and running over to the sofa. "No." Digging in the cushions gave Draco a most decent view of her knicker-clad backside, which he'd nearly managed to convince himself he wasn't appreciating when a slight pull in his trousers told him otherwise.

Sitting down to obscure the 'problem', he watched as Ginny pulled a pair of jean trousers from the cushions of the sofa and proceeded to pull them on. Pulling on a striped corduroy shirt over her thin vest, she snatched up her wand and slid into a pair of comfortable shoes. "Got to dash, be back soon, love you!" she Apparated with a pop, leaving Draco to contemplate her unique choice in wording.

……………

Blaise was tapping his fingers on the thick oak table inside the dimly lit tavern when Ginny Apparated into the foyer. She rushed over to Blaise's table, looking adorably sheepish. He also liked the cute smudges of flour on her nose and cheeks and in her hair.

It made her seem so much more difficult to berate, however.

"'S'about time." Blaise growled as Ginny leaned down and pressed a hullo kiss to his cheek. She slid into the booth across from Blaise. "Sorry." She said guiltily. Blaise sniffed. "Affronted." He claimed. Ginny rolled her eyes. "Indifferent." She retorted as a tall waiter brought her a glass of tea.

Ginny looked up and nodded her head in thanks. Blaise glared at her suspiciously. "Alright, what's wrong with you?" he asked sceptically, forgetting about Lei entirely. Ginny glanced up over the rim of her glass. "What _are_ you on about, Zabini?" she growled slightly challengingly. Blaise smirked knowingly. "Who is he?" he asked.

Ginny arched an eyebrow. "Who is who?" she asked. Blaise grinned. "You never pass up a chance to flirt up a good-looking waiter and that bloke was sexy as hell." "You're noticing?" Ginny cut in. Blaise ignored her. "So who's this new chap you've met to make you give up flirting opportunities?"

Ginny stared at him in disbelief. "You've really got to stop doing this." It was Blaise's turn to look confused. "Wha-?" "Get out of my head!" Ginny growled. Blaise laughed. "So…who is it? Darby?" he asked, recalling the name she'd moaned earlier that morning. Ginny gave him a weird look. "Darby? Good Lord, no." she scoffed, folding her menu and ordering, waiting for Blaise to do the same. As soon as the waiter had left, Ginny turned back to Blaise. "I haven't seen Darby in ages. How did you know about him?" she asked curiously, a tang to her voice that he chose to ignore for now.

Blaise tried to think of a plausible answer for that one. He couldn't. "You said his name in your sleep this morning. I figured he had to be of rather large significance in your life." Ginny snorted, her nostrils flaring. "Not recently." She snorted. Blaise decided she wasn't going to be kiss-and-tell on this. He tried his previous tactic.

"So…who is he?" Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. "There's no one right now. There is no 'he'." She said firmly. Blaise grinned. "That's a lie and you know it." He said, smirking at her. He was startled to see her fists clenching and her nostrils flaring.

"Lay off Zabini." She growled. Blaise's hand fell to the table with a thud, forks and knives rattling and clinking against each other. People turned to look at the source of the commotion, but Blaise disregarded them. "Oh my giddy aunt." He breathed, taking in her flushed cheeks. "It's Malfoy isn't it?" he exhaled. Ginny's face paled at an almost painful rate. "Zabini, you great prick…" she said weakly.

Blaise smiled at her brilliantly. "This is bloody awesome!" Ginny's head snapped up so fast Blaise swore he heard the bones in her spine cracking in protest. "W-what?" she asked, blinking uncomprehendingly. "I'm sorry, I must have missed something crucial here because I think- and this might be where I've gone wrong- that we just established my painfully obvious- at least to you- attraction to Malfoy." She stared at him, as if expecting him to say something contrary. He didn't; just kept on grinning like a goddamn Cheshire cat.

"Yeah. That's brilliant." Blaise stated again. Ginny was about to tackle him and bring out the straightjacket when Blaise's face split in half into a magnificent grin. "Oh Merlin…this is the most incredible thing that's ever happened…if you two get together…" Ginny's eye broke in with a arbitrary twitch "…if my two best friends fall for each other, it will be the coolest flat party ever!" he punched a fist in the air, reminding Ginny of things she'd like to do involving Blaise and fists and punching.

"Blaise…" Ginny growled threateningly. Blaise unwisely ignored her. "And you could be civil to each other and you could fall in love and you could move into the same room and you could date and get married and have lots and lots of ferret and weasel babies running all over the place and-" "Blaise." Ginny's voice was death incarnate. Blaise cut off his reverie of having his two best mates living together in peace with him forever. "What?" he asked of the curiously venomous glare in Ginny's eyes. The fork she was bending in her hand was a bit odd as well.

"There is nothing, and may I stress that there will never be anything between me and the magnificent vaulting ferret, and that includes itty bitty ferret-bastards." She snapped, for some reason having to struggle to keep down a smirking grin that was forming on her lips. Not funny, not funny, not funny, not funny…think of Malfoy…damn, very funny…Malfoy…never making pancakes before…not funny…

Blaise saw a smile quivering on her lips and latched onto it. "You like Malfoy." He sang in a crooning sing-song voice. Ginny couldn't hold down the grin. Rolling her eyes, she laughed lightly along with Blaise. "Alright, so he's attractive." She relented as Blaise dug into his newly-arrived pasta. "And he has a nice arse." Blaise's head lifted and he glanced at her from underneath his bangs. "You're noticing?" he asked. Ginny flamed red and growled at him.

Grinning alfredo sauce at her, Blaise made a low chuckling noise. Ginny rolled her eyes again and speared a slice of fish on her knife. "I hate you." She growled, biting into her food.

……………

"You call this place an art gallery?"

Ginny rolled her eyes, tucking red hair behind her ear. "Malfoy, please be sensible just this once and do shut up." She clicked her tongue, steering him by his elbow over to a modern-looking steel bar. The waitress behind it glanced up at them through magenta eyes.

"Oi, GingerAle!" The witch with frighteningly short black hair pushed lime-green sunglasses up to the top of her head so she could plant a kiss of Ginny's cheek as the red-head leaned over the bar. Draco was gawking at the decidedly odd woman, whose ears were a series of hoops, beads, bands, and studs, and whose nose had a sparkly jewel on it.

Ginny laughed and turned suddenly to Draco. "My manners…Draco, this is Eurythmia, better known as Rthymi, my dear friend and owner of this art _bar_." Rythmi arched a studded eyebrow at Ginny as she shook Draco's hand (her own heavily bangled, white nails painted ten different colours). Ginny rolled her eyes. "Stupid git's unaccustomed to any art not centuries old." She rolled her eyes. Rythmi quickly dropped Draco's hand, looking at him with supreme distaste.

"You one of those Renaissance-Baroque-Realism sons-a-bitches? The yuppie little antiques, classical, uptight, 'art appreciators'?" she asked, sneering at him. Draco in turn, arched an eyebrow at Ginny, who again sighed and rolled her eyes. "Translation; are you into just classical art, or do you like modern art?" she sighed.

Draco scoffed. "Can you honestly call anything done in the past few centuries 'art'?" he scoffed. Ginny winced, glancing at the paintings lining the walls, all modern, abstract, or idealistic, and most signed Eurythmia at the bottom. Rythmi glared harshly at Draco. "Yes, I can."

Stepping on Draco's toes, Ginny led him away, mouthing 'sorry' to Rythmi behind his back. The magenta-eyed witch slid her glasses over her eyes and continued to stick Butterbeer bottle caps to the ceiling with her wand.

Ginny's main goal that night was keeping Draco away from the paintings, stopping him from staring at the many 'interesting' and diverse people that littered Magic's Modern Masterpiece, and last but most certainly not least, getting as shite-faced as possible.

Draco was just concentrating on getting shite-faced.

…………

Blaise was yawning so loudly as he Apparated into his apartment, that he was afraid he would wake the other occupants of the flat. Shedding his coat and outer robes silently, he stealthily made his way into Ginny's room. It had been close onto half two when he'd finally managed to escape both Editing and Lei.

Creeping around on his toes, he dropped his things into the dark corner of Ginny's room and slid into the bed next to her. Or rather, next to where she should have been. Sitting up, he stared for a moment before realizing how completely stupid it was to do so in the dark.

A muttered 'Lumos' later and he was staring at the illuminated empty space in the large bed. Casting a glance around the room, he noticed her coat and robes were missing from her door rack. She was still out…with Malfoy.

Somehow the idea struck him as disagreeable. Being reasonable, he wondered why exactly? After all, he was an old, good friend, and she was his best friend…it would be the greatest thing ever if they got together. Ginny would be lucky to finally find someone to be her 'forever'. But as he drifted off to a restless sleep, he caught himself feeling the beginning tangs of jealously and wondering if it really was so great after all.


	7. Inebriation Consequences and A Ton of Br

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Hi everybody, I'm back. I can't sleep so I might as well get something done. Here's the next chapter. It's kind of crazy. And kind of short. And I may or may not receive a few assassination attempts via email (not quite sure how that works yet, but am positive would be v. nasty indeed) for the ending, but hey, it's what I live for. I hope you like and I hope you don't shoot me bangitty-bangitty-dead on the streets if you don't.

**DISCLAIMER: **Not mine if it belongs to J. K. Rowling.

* * *

**Mistaken Liaisons**

**Chapter 7: Inebriation Consequences and A Ton of Bricks

* * *

**

The next day Blaise wished he hadn't woken up. He didn't quite know why…it was an average day…not too rainy and mushy out, but still it was no sunshine-ridden day in the Caribbean. The weather had nothing to do with Blaise's feel towards the day, as he woke up immediately wishing he could just go back to sleep.

Oddly enough, he had barely slept, and what little he had gotten hadn't been nearly decent. For someone worn out from a day hard at work managing and shagging till two in the morning, he should have slept like a ton of bricks…yet he couldn't grasp onto sleep. It was dancing just out of his reach the whole night. Even if he did manage to get a hold of it, it was plagued with bizarre dreams of no meaning and strange, alien faces.

But that had nothing to do with his wanting to go back to sleep. No, the real reason he desperately wanted to drift back into unconsciousness was that when he rolled over to talk to Ginny and discuss his vaguely odd dreams, he discovered the bed to be just as empty as when he'd last checked it.

Uncharacteristically angry at Ginny for no good reason other than the fact that she wasn't there and he needed to talk to her, Blaise finally worked up the will to slide from the bed, no longer hanging in semi-conscious sleep limbo.

Trotting glumly into the kitchen he noticed a stack of cold pancakes. Taking a few bites, he wondered when Ginny had made these since she didn't appear to have gotten home last night. Drenching the flapjacks in syrup, Blaise scanned the Daily Prophet, content with the knowledge that Ginny was safely tucked into whosever bed she had rolled into last night and that she would come back home just as soon as she woke-

Blaise's eyes flew open and he knocked over his coffee cup.

Ginny wasn't with anyone right now. She didn't have a current flavour of the week…she just had Malfoy, who wasn't quite…

Slamming to his feet, Blaise raced through the supposedly empty apartment and flung the door to his room open. Draco was in the bed, apparently still asleep, his bare back to Blaise in the doorway. Blaise was about to put his overactive imagination down to nerves and bad coffee when Draco rolled onto his back.

A pale arm was slung across his chest.

Something red peaked out from the spot near Draco's ear, and as Blaise stepped further into the room, he saw that it wasn't just some random red-headed shag off the streets…it was his Ginny. _My Ginny…_ the thought was so very unexpected that Blaise stopped his franticly palpitating heart-beat counting for a moment to study it.

His Ginny. The flashes of jealousy that had inundated him throughout the endless night came rushing back to him as he saw Ginny's perfect arm draped over Draco's chest in a manner they had never even managed as best mates. Close best mates. The best of best mates…

_Oh shite…_Blaise thought with dawning horror as the world spun, snapped, and collapsed around him.

_I'm in love with by best mate…_

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Blaise was sitting listlessly at the kitchen table, stirring a spoon in his frigid coffee for the nine-hundredth and sixty-eighth time when someone he heard a screaming sound, followed by a thud that made the floorboards shake underfoot.

Stumbling in a trance, it seemed, totally unattached from what was going on around him, Blaise made his way back to the two people he was both anticipating and dreading waking.

Waking wasn't a problem, he realized as he stepped once more into the room. They were both awake and surprisingly quite vocal.

"What the bloody hell are you doing in my bed?" That was Ginny, not entirely wrapped in covers, on the floor, hair mussed and eyes wide. It was all too apparent, to Blaise who cringed mentally, that she wasn't wearing knickers.

"Your bed? This is where I sleep! What are _you_ doing in _my_ bed?" Draco was still on the bed, the sheets wrapped firmly around his very naked waist. Blaise coughed hesitantly from the doorway. Draco looked up, eyes wide and hopeful for some kind of prank-joke-like explanation to solve the mystery of how he ended up in the same bed as Ginny Weasley.

Ginny just looked sick and horrified.

"Blaise, what-?"

"Zabini, you little-"

"What the hell did you two do last night?"

Both Ginny and Draco cut off what they were saying at Blaise's weird question. Flashes of broken memories skipped through their now-fully-conscious brains as they exchanged glances that increased in horror and realization as the seconds dragged on.

"Oh dear gods." Ginny breathed, staring at Draco as if he had sprouted horns and pronounced his love for Harry Potter in an old-fashioned singing telegram method. Draco's gaze was similarly not adoring.

"Did we…?" Draco trailed, unwilling to finish the sentence. "Shag?" Blaise asked from the doorway, unwilling to take his eyes off Ginny as he waited for an answer, which Ginny was unwilling to give as she stared down at the sheet she'd finally pulled over her body.

"I guess so." She finally said, closing her eyes and shrugging dejectedly.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Breakfast was a trying experience. Once they'd established the fact that yes, Blaise had found them like this, not set them up as such for a joke, and that yes, it seemed they had slept together but were too smashed to remember, and finally, yes, those were Ginny's knickers hanging on the coat rack, they were ready to become mature adults and assume their responsibilities in life and for their actions.

After Ginny tried to strangle Draco with her bra.

Had Ginny and Draco (or at least Ginny) not been so preoccupied about sleeping with the enemy, they (or at least she) might have noticed that Blaise was worlds away, not listening to a thing they said or screamed at the top of their lungs.

After a while they settled down into a painfully silent lull that Blaise broke by asking them if they wanted pancakes. Ginny's hand flew to her mouth at the same time Draco gagged as they caught sight of the towering, slightly soggy, cold pastries together. Draco was right on Ginny's heels as she dashed for the bathroom.

Draco's voice demanding entry could barely be heard over unpleasant splashing sounds and retching from the bathroom. Blaise listened as, in addition to the melodic noise Ginny was making, heavy footsteps thundered frenziedly into Ginny's part of the flat, accompanied by more icky sounds.

The retching and vomiting in the bathroom stopped before Ginny called out, her voice somewhat hoarse and scratchy. "Malfoy, if you threw up in my room, I will kill you." After which more vomiting sounds infiltrated the bathroom door amidst Draco's fervent and repeated mantra of 'Scourgify, Scourgify, Scourgify…' from Ginny's bedroom.

They both emerged many puking spells and minutes later, looking dreadfully green and nasty. Blaise had busied himself in their absence in putting away any trace or suggestion of food. He avoided looking directly at Ginny, because for the first time in three years, he wasn't sure how to act around her. She had always, _always_ been his best mate. That's just how things were. And yet…there was a possessiveness…a wanting that was entirely un-platonic. And he couldn't believe it had taken him three years to figure it out.

Hadn't he always told people that Ginny was the greatest woman on the face of the earth? Hadn't he set her up with multitudes of men? Hadn't he known that she was terrific? Of course he had…so why had he never thought that this could be the woman for him? He wasn't painfully attracted to her…though now that was changing a bit and he was careful to keep his legs crossed just in case…but he most certainly wasn't immune to her charm and beauty. He'd just…never considered it before.

She wasn't anything breathtaking…she wasn't ugly…she wasn't average either…she was just another woman…yet it was 'just another woman' who knew him inside and out without having to ask…'just another woman' who could answer his every question before he asked it…'just another woman' who he had to see and touch and give a quick kiss to once every day or else he went insane…'just another woman' he couldn't stand to be away from…'just another woman' who could only make him laugh more than make him angry…'just another woman' he was completely and utterly falling in love with.

Ginny was staring at her fingers, twiddling a ring on her left hand idly, staring off into the distance at the tabletop…which in her eyes wasn't a tabletop, but a vast expanse of her mind, mapped out onto a visible surface to analyze.

Blaise was acting awfully strange about this. Hadn't he said, just yesterday, that this was the greatest thing that could ever have happened? Hadn't he urged her on when she was so adamant that it not happen? Why was he so solemn and moody? Why, if he wanted and encouraged it, did it feel so wrong; like she'd betrayed him somehow?

She was so afraid that she might have fucked something up…she didn't know if she could live with herself if she'd screwed up her friendship with Blaise. Blaise was someone Ginny could talk to and he would listen. He was someone who would tell her when she was being stupid, or immature, or a complete and utter cow. He was someone who would make her laugh when she needed to with a sense of humour she could appreciate. He would soothe her when she got in her moods. Of all things, he knew how to handle her; and Ginny made no assumptions: she knew she wasn't someone easy to handle.

Likewise, Ginny knew just how to deal with Blaise. They'd know each other this close for three years, and yet Ginny knew more about his habits than any other person in her life. She knew when he wanted to talk about a girl or about work or just his life in general. She knew when he needed time alone. She also knew when to tell him to stop sulking and get up off his arse and do something. They matched; plain and simple.

And yet, here she was, sitting at the table in awkward silence as if she had 'Property of Draco Malfoy' branded into her forehead. And that didn't bode too well with anyone at the table. Ginny was wildly wondering whether or not she should say something…perhaps something about it being accidental, or the result of too many of Rythmi's infamous and practically deadly concoctions, about her not remembering a single thing from last night and how nothing might have happened, when Blaise broke the silence.

"Ginny? Is that a wedding ring?"


	8. Acceptance is a Bitch

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Is this font major funkadelic or am I just high again? Damn hallucinogens...so craftily concealed in energy drinks. Boy, knock back a dozen or six of those and it really starts to hit ya, don't it? And did you know strawberries are aphrodisiacs? Chocolate-covered strawberries are a bad idea in any circumstance. Where the hell is this one-sided conversation going? I make a lousy conversationalist, that's for sure. SHUT UP! Okay, so here is chapter...whatever the hell chapter this is. Sorry it took so long. Parental issues...apparently they can't live with each other anymore, or something. Can you say divorce? See, I can't, it's just something about the tongue and the word, they just don't mix very well and...shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up...I decided this is more interesting than homework, so goodbye to good college dreams. Ejoy.

**DISCLAIMER:** Not mine if it belongs to J. K. Rowling. Come on guys, we've been over this.

* * *

**Mistaken Liasions**

**Chapter 8: Acceptance is a Bitch**

* * *

Draco's eyes were a lovely icy blue, almost silver in some points and flecked with sea foam green. They were cold and beautiful and arctic and brutal, which was kind of appropriate because so was he. Ginny's eyes, in contrast, were sinfully rich matrimony of coffee and chocolate that melted and scorched in an overly dramatic trashy romance novel kind of way; almost amber around the pupil, practically burning with warmth and depth. They too, were gorgeous, and the one thing Ginny herself would agree to being termed 'lovely'. Blaise's eyes were sparkling orbs of sapphire and dusk, merging from hazy depths to a shining clarity. It was his eyes that had lead him through the other half of the knickers in Hogwarts.

One would assume the plain silver wedding band on Ginny's left ring finger would have incinerated under the intense stares of the three pairs of astounding eyes that suddenly latched onto its seemingly unassuming form at Blaise's inquiry.

It didn't however, and in the absence of explosions and crackling melt-downs, the only sound that reigned in the utterly dead silence of the kitchen was the sound of Draco's body hitting the floor with a lifeless thud as the events of the previous night came back to him.

Ginny glanced down at the inert body of her newly established husband and nearly vomited. She fumbled as she wrenched the ring off her finger and flung it out the window. Or she would have, had Lei Chang's damned owl not flown through the window at that moment. Ginny watched in growing morbid fascination as the owl plummeted into her kitchen sink, the imprint of her ring making a round 'o' right above one swelling little beady eye. Ginny was somewhat soothed…if only it had been Malfoy flying though that window…

For once Blaise welcomed the arrival of Lei's damn owl. Not so much the summonings of sex-on-demand that it carried, but at least the damned bird bought Blaise some reprieve from the 'Weaselfoy' tension-mounting situation that had developed like a bacterial fungus in the kitchen.

"Well, would you look at that!" Blaise exclaimed somewhat dramatically, holding out his parchment paper in apparent shock an arm's length away. "Lei needs me for something…utterly…strategically…staggeringly…important…yeah. Well, must dash, toodles!" with that and a pop, he was gone, leaving Ginny alone in the kitchen with an unconscious owl and an unconscious husband. She only wished she could toss Draco out the window…

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Blaise was in hysterics by the time he'd made his way down to fifth floor Editing. Inner hysterics, of course, as it simply wouldn't do to let the crazy, muttering mice-loving janitorial German witch in Copying know that he was slightly more imbalanced mentally than she was. It could shatter his fragile ego, which was so decidedly fragile now that the woman of his dreams was married to his best friend.

Damn.

All throughout Lei's presentation on her new cover page ideas Blaise was fidgeting, tapping his dull nails on the desk, tapping the feather of his quill on the desk, tapping his head on the desk repeatedly at a severe rate and with brutal force…

Lei trailed off mid-sentence at the sight of one of her best copy-editors trying to break the desk with his forehead. "Zabini? Are we having problems?" she asked, arching a tweezer-massacred eyebrow over the rim of her glasses. Blaise glanced up, chin sliding off the table as he disappeared behind his hands.

Lei frowned, blood red lips twisting down. "Is there something you'd like to share with the team?" she asked in a user-friendly kind of peppy voice. Blaise's eyes appeared glaring between his fingers. "This is not an Alcoholics Anonymous session!" he shouted indignantly, remembering the hellish ordeal that had been one of Draco's lesser of brilliant ideas. "I'm not sharing my life and problems with a bunch of cracked-up photo journalist editors with no sense of humour!"

Lei's pencil snapped and the corners of her lips performed an Olympic-style ten-point dive into a disapproving frown of the deepest calibre that only women can accomplish. "I think someone needs a little time to think about his actions." She said, pushing her hair out of her face with brutal force.

"I am not two fucking years old, you bloody ignorant bitch! You can't make me go stand in the fucking corner!"

"Zabini, you're on suspension for two weeks. If you can't pull your arse together, I'll have no choice but to let you go, am I understood?" she said, grinding her teeth. Blaise scoffed and shot back from the table, his chair falling over as he stood suddenly, face twisted with the effort of not pulling his wand from his pocket and Avada-ing the hell out of her arse on the spot.

"Oh I understand perfectly." He said, gathering his things, aware of the astonished stares of his co-workers. "See you in two weeks, feck-heads!" he said, slamming the door open and disappearing from the office with several different hand gestures, all extremely rude depending on what country it was from.

The art of linguistics…

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

When Blaise got back to his apartment, the lights were dim and the door locked. Slightly afraid of just what he might find in an apartment that now housed newlyweds, he tiptoed through the doors. He severely hoped no honeymoon activities were in progress. Gingerly dropping his robes he peered into the kitchen: empty.

He stuck his head out cautiously. "Hello?" he called tentatively. For one moment packed with absolute stark-horror, Blaise imagined that the groan that came from his bedroom was one of ecstasy. While convincing his stomach to return to his body, Blaise calmed himself with the comforting knowledge that a loud thunk and another groan of most definitely not ecstasy followed.

Within a few moments, a dishevelled Draco Malfoy came slinking out of Blaise's room, rubbing a red stop on his head. He leered through one bleary eye before grumbling. "Morning, Zabini." He growled, heading into the kitchen, utterly unsure of how he had ever gotten entangled in the sheets in Blaise's bed when the last thing he remembered was throwing up and a lot of pancakes…

Blaise flung himself into one of the dining room seats, more than a tad moody. "Try afternoon. It's almost supper time, Malfoy." Blaise was astonished to hear how grouchy he was and to know internally that it had absolutely nothing to do with being dismissed for two weeks.

There was a pounding, dull ache in his chest that made him feel like he needed to take a really deep breath. But he couldn't. Blaise glanced around as Draco tried to retrace his steps. "Where's Ginny?" he asked, her name panging and tightening the hold that was currently disallowing his blood to flow through his veins and was instead making it pound repeatedly in his head and chest.

Draco looked up just then, a look of comprehension and horror dawning over his scowling features. He looked down at his hand where a cheap silver ring was lovingly encircling his dreaded 'marriage finger'. He didn't really need that finger…he always had thought it was useless…

Blaise cleared his throat, bringing Draco's eyes back to him and his hand away from the butcher's knife. Draco's mouth fell open. "I-I'm…" he paused, looking otherworldly and out of it. "I'm married." He breathed, a small quirk forming on his lips.

Blaise's world came crashing down at his feet. "Yeah, I guess you are."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Hermione sighed, rereading the fifth draft for her latest magical law proposal. It looked decent…but that bastard of a copy-editor of hers always found something wrong. She was just about to scratch out another sentence when someone knocked on her door.

Sticking her quill back in its inkpot, she brushed off her hands and made her way through her sizeable apartment to answer the front door. Heaven forbid Ron should ever do it…

Hermione was quite astonished to see her sister-in-law on her doorstep. "Ginny!" she exclaimed, ushering the young woman in. "How have you been? I haven't seen you in ages, oh and tell that smarmy flatmate of yours that the next time he tells me his old house elf could write better laws than I can, I'll personally come down and…" but she trailed off as tears welled up in Ginny's eyes and threatened to spill over.

"Ginny, what…?" Hermione was cut short as Ginny shoved her left hand in front of her face. "I'm married!" she burst out in a sob. She immediately lapsed into a series of tearful outbursts that Hermione had difficultly following.

Shushing her and alternately rubbing her back while she lead the distraught woman over to the couch, Hermione pulled her wand from her pocket and closed the door behind her. Another flick and a pot of tea was on the stove while Ginny cried her heart out.

Several cups of tea later, Ginny was curled up in a ball, her head in Hermione's lap as the older witch stroked her red hair comfortingly. For once, Hermione was having difficulty taking in information.

"So…you're married…to Malfoy?" she asked, somewhat hoarsely. A vision of her fist flying out to meet his ferrety face popped up in her mind and she cringed at how much her husband loved that incident…and loved to bring it up repeatedly at family functions. Ginny sniffled and nodded. "I don't know how…I just remember having a lot of drinks and Rythmi saying something about an Irish wedding legend and then the next thing I knew, I woke up in bed next to a Malfoy." She let out a weary sob.

Hermione turned a contemplative face down to Ginny's. "So, what are you going to do about it?" she asked. Ginny shrugged, a tear streaking her face. "There's not so much I can do." Hermione's eyes widened. "Nothing you can do? Ginny, divorce him! I'm sure he's not overly thrilled about his arrangement, I mean the Weasleys and the Malfoys have never gotten along."

Ginny scoffed. "I'm not a Weasley, I'm a Malfoy now. Besides, divorce isn't as easy in the magical world as it is in the Muggle one. There hasn't been a case of divorce in the magical community since that woman who accidentally married Snape. And even then, her life was ruined." She sniffled again, swiping at her eyes with a semi-obliterated tissue.

"I don't think it would have been any better with Snape…actually, I think her life was spared a great deal of painstaking torment. Ew, Snape…" Hermione shuddered before turning her attention back to her distraught sister-in-law.

"I just never imagined it would be like this, you know? I always imagined falling head over heels with some bloke or other. A wedding in the back yard at the Burrow. The twins spiking the champagne. Dad stomping on my feet in the father-daughter dance. Mom in tears, Ron stonily shaking hands with the groom, no matter who he was, Bill and Charlie and Percy all coming down to wish me away into a fairytale life." Seeming to snap out of her reverie, Ginny shook her head.

"Obviously I overestimated things, but still…I wanted some kind of happy beginning. Something. " And with that, she blew her nose and terminated her eighteenth tissue.


	9. Broken Dreams, Betrayal, Suffering, and

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Again with the punctual updating! What le fuque? Shrug of shoulders and I have no idea. This is just crazy. Good, at least things are in some semblance of order. Now, without further ado (ack, no babbling delays?... noooooo...) I give you chapter ninny-poo. Okay, what the hell, seriously...stop with the caffeine, you freak! Oh, depression.

**DISCLAIMER: **I have disclaimed. Not mine if it belongs to J. K. Rowling.

* * *

**Mistaken Liasions**

**Chapter Nine: Broken Hearts, Betrayal, Suffering, and A Spot of Tea

* * *

**

Draco was still on the couch when Blaise stepped out of the shower. It was the longest time he'd ever spent in the bathroom (and still less than what Ginny usually spent in there) and yet he still wanted to crawl back in and lock himself out of the world.

He hadn't turned the hot water on and it seemed as if every centimetre of his skin was shaking and trying to jump off his bones. His teeth were still chattering as he went into his room.

Once he was wrapped into some comfortable nightclothes, he threw himself back onto his bed. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply and erratically for no reason. His heart was racing and his muscles weary and he didn't know why

Well, he had a faint idea…

Ginny. His Ginny. She always had been, but she wasn't anymore. She was Draco's Ginny now. She would never be his again. He would never be able to hold her like he used to, or talk to her like he used to. She had other responsibilities and loyalties now. She was Malfoy's.

Blaise wanted her so badly. If he closed his eye, he could almost see her smiling face. The face that was always there for him and knew when he needed it. The face that he turned to with problems. The face he loved to see more than his own in the mirror. He had to wipe that image from his head.

He couldn't love Draco's wife.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Draco was up the second he heard the telltale pop! of an Apparation. Ginny Weasley- Ginny Malfoy now, he reminded himself- was standing right in front of him, gorgeous as ever. Was Blaise absolutely blind?

"Where have you been?" he asked, surprised at how gentle his tone was. Considering how frantic he was. Ginny apparently missed the concern and turned a fierce face to his. He saw the telltale marks of tears on her cheeks.

"Let's get one thing straight, Malfoy. You may legally be my husband but I am not going to play the part of obedient housewife to your carefree bastard-like 'lord of the manor' husband, so just go to hell!" she screamed, stomping into her room and slamming her door so hard that a painting fell over the fireplace.

Draco stared harshly at the door she'd just entered. A small part of him was telling him to let her cry and storm and get over it; it was, after all, a big deal. But it was a very, very small part of him and his Malfoy instincts took over as he strode angrily towards her door.

Yanking on the doorknob, he realized she'd locked it. He raised a fist and beat it against the door. He could almost feel it splinter beneath his skin. "Fuck off, Malfoy!" she screamed, throwing something hard at the door.

Draco growled. He had been trying to be nice and understanding, something that went against all his training and years of Malfoy upbringing and did that snotty little witch give a damn? Draco hammered on the door again.

"Open up this door, Weasley, or I'll do it myself!" he warned, pulling out his wand. "Don't you dare, you great, filthy, ferrety-" Draco growled and waved his wand.

'Alohomora' would have been nice and effective. However, Draco used a blasting spell and completely obliterated her door. Splinters of wood went flying everywhere as he strode through the door.

Ginny had been lying on her stomach on top of the covers on her bed, but she was up in an instant when Draco barged into her room. "Malfoy, you little fuck, you're going to pay for that." Her wand was out in a second.

Neither of them noticed Blaise standing in the doorway uncomfortably.

Draco sneered. "What are you going to do, make me wish I'd never laid eyes on you? Because it's too late for that, Wea-" Ginny's eyes flashed and Blaise prayed from the doorway that whatever her curse was, it didn't rhyme with 'Nevada Pellagra'.

When Blaise pulled up the courage to peek through the fingers over his eyes, Draco was running around the room, assaulted by his own flying bogeys. Ginny was fuming, her cheeks blotchy red and her eyes flashing anger.

Draco called off the curse and turned to Ginny. Blaise's heart rose to his throat and his own hand dove into his robes, fingering his wand anxiously. He had seen the same look in another Malfoy's eyes. It had been right before he'd watched Lucius Malfoy Crucio his wife in front of him and Draco. Right now, Draco did look like Lucius.

Ginny never let fear into her eyes, not even when Draco Expelliarmused her wand out of her hand unexpectedly. His wand right under her chin, Draco was breathing heavily, his hands shaking. Ginny was glaring at his face defiantly, her hands clenched at her sides.

Blaise's heart was hammering now and his throat dry as he watched, afraid of just what Draco might do. Ginny stared as Draco fought with his inner demons. "Are you going to do it, Malfoy?" she spat, her eyes glinting dangerously. "Going to Avada me, eh?" she asked, stepping closer and forcing him to pull his wand back or shish kebab her throat .

Blaise watched his reckless love poke the sleeping dragon ever harder. He wondered if it would awake. Ginny was a foot from Draco now. "I don't imagine it would be that hard. Surely you're father's given you plenty of examples to learn from." Blaise saw where she was going and he didn't like it at all. "So let's hear it…are you going to be the next Lucius Malfoy?"

Blaise's wand was out the second she'd finished talking. He stepped up beside Draco, eyeing Ginny worriedly. "I think you'd better go now, Draco." He said gently. To his surprise, Draco's wand hand dropped limply. He was staring at Ginny as if he'd never seen her before.

"I'm not like him." he said, staring at Ginny as one would a goddess. He had eyes only for her; Blaise might as well have not even been in the room. Ginny nodded her head. "I know you're not. I really do."

He reached out tentatively for her hand. She hesitated for a moment, then brought her own up to meet it. They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment, their hands clasped together in a silent agreement to make the best of their mistaken union.

As he watched them, feeling ever more like a bystander watching from the outside, Blaise felt his heart break.

It was all over.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Pansy Parkinson was lying elegantly in a green and gold silk robe on the lounge in her boudoir, filing her emerald green nails as the tall, burly dark–haired man in front of her bellowed and gesticulated wildly. Her lily-white face was calm and cold, admiring and examining her nails carefully and attentively, her outer appearance belying the annoyance building up inside her.

The man stopped shouting whatever it was he'd been shouting, his hands falling limply to his sides. "You aren't even listening, are you?" he asked, his voice oddly small and his wide black eyes shining eerily.

Pansy glanced up, her blonde curls cascading gracefully over her shoulder and down her back with the slight movement. Harsh blue eyes stared him down critically. "Not really, why were you talking to me?" her lips turned down in a sneering, dissatisfied frown that made her normally pretty face rather twisted and malevolent.

The hurt that crossed the man's handsome features was the only response she received. He shook his head, debating whether to say anything else. With a strangled sigh that bordered on a sob, he turned and strode out of the room, bumping into another man who jumped out of the way hastily as the other Disapparated away with a pop.

Pansy glanced coolly up at the entrance of the second man. Her eyes instantly lit upon seeing his face and she swung her shapely legs over the side of her lounge, eagerly standing to greet him with a kiss on his cheek.

Gesturing for him to sit on a forest-green sofa on the other side of the well-furnished room, Pansy rang a small silver bell and sat across from him, a lovely smile fixed on her now-cheery face.

"Blaise, it's so good to see you. I haven't seen you in weeks." Her generous lower lip pouted out balefully. "Why don't you come see me more often?" she asked. Blaise sighed tiredly and pulled off his robes. "Sorry, Pansy. I've been…busy lately." He finished with only the slightest grimace.

Pansy's lips turned down ever so lightly at the corner as a bustling house elf wearing a frilly green apron and smock entered, a tray of tea balanced on its shoulder. It set it down and backed away quickly. "Too busy for me?" Pansy asked, pouring tea for them both.

Blaise sighed. "To tell you the truth, things have been rather hectic lately. I'm sure you've heard that Draco's living with me now." Pansy's eyes alighted with glee as she sipped her tea daintily. Setting her cup down, she leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, a considering mask on her face. "No, I hadn't heard that actually."

Her blue eyes shone for a moment and she turned her face to his. "Does this mean Ginevra has moved out?" Blaise stared down at his napkin. "No, she's still living there," Pansy's eyes dulled considerably "she's…she's…" Blaise struggled with the words he didn't want to ever hear anyone say. Pansy leaned in excitedly.

"She's married." Pansy's eyes lit triumphantly. "To Draco." A wild chorus of hallelujah broke out in Pansy's head and it was all she could do not to jump from her seat. Sealing her features, she reached for the teapot.

"More tea?"

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Ginny was sitting on the sofa, a full length away from Draco, who was twiddling his hands nervously. They had been sitting like this for a full two hours and counting and Draco still couldn't think of anything to say to his wife.

His wife.

The thought struck him as frightening, but somehow, not the death-sermon he'd thought it would be. Marriage didn't look so horrifying now that he was actually in it. Glancing over at Ginny, he secretly admitted that his wife wasn't too horrible either.

Her face was odd, really. Her chin was small and elfish, barely an inch between it and her lips. Her cheeks were wide and when she grinned, she had pronounced dimples. Her nose was of appropriate Weasley length, but thankfully not to the degree of her brother's. Her cheekbones were high and almost elegantly so, marred only by her freckles and wide eyes.

And what gorgeous eyes.

Her hair was currently in two short bunches that stuck out from behind her ears. He'd never thought pigtails could be so sexy. She kept lifting a pale hand to tuck back unruly strands of orange-red hair that fell in front of her eyes.

Draco was vaguely aware of the fact that he was practically salivating over a Weasley who wasn't anywhere near the drop-dead sexy bombshell women that had once littered his life. But, as he repeatedly told himself, she was no longer a Weasley, and drop-dead sexy bombshell women got old after a while in their stupid perfection. And Ginny was by far a match for him and more. She could actually make married life…dare he say it? Enjoyable?

Ginny suddenly groaned and threw her head back, her eyes squeezed shut in what looked like pain. Draco turned to her, concerned. "What?" he asked, surprised at his own worry. She lifted her head, apparently thinking the same thing as him. Ignoring it, she sat up. "This means I'm going to have to tell my family eventually."

A frightening image of an army of red-headed warriors with long noses carrying pitchforks and nooses fled across the blank expanse of his mind. He shuddered, trying to rid the image of a spear shoved up his nose out of his head. "Maybe they don't have to know for a few…years…" he trailed, contemplating how short his life would be if the Weasley brothers found out what he'd done with their little sister and what else he had the right to do as her husband.

Ginny groaned, slumping forward until her head was in her hands. "Oh, stupid twit. Why'd you go and tell Hermione?" she slammed her palm into her head repeatedly, as if to make the idiocy she spoke of leave through force.

Draco reached out and grabbed at her hand, intent upon stopping her before she did some brain damage. She ended up moving her hand away just as he reached for it, causing him to overbalance and fall…into her lap.

He glanced up at her. Her face was blank and yet so expressive under that calm surface. Uncertainty and fear flitted across her gaze as she weighed her options. A hand came up as if on puppet strings and brushed Draco's hair out of his eyes.

He had never felt the pull of something so simple and he couldn't feel his breathing or his heartbeat…his head was spinning and all he could see was her…her hair, her face, her lips…closing in on his…just one kiss…they were married…just one kiss…it couldn't hurt…just one kiss…

Ginny knew she shouldn't have ever considered it. But they were married after all. It wasn't ideal, but he was handsome and well-known for his bed prowess…and he seemed to have grown up. And after all, it was only one kiss…

Draco's eyes closed the second he felt her lips on his. It was a soft, closed-mouth kiss…at first. For a moment Draco couldn't move a muscle. An incredible feeling of weightlessness filled him and the only thing anchoring him down were the lips that were suckling his lower lip, seeking, bold, and just a little unsure.

That uncertainty melted the second Draco moaned and reached around to pull her head closer to his. His chest felt like it was being smothered, yet on fire at the same time. Millions of volts of electric energy were racing a marathon through his veins, all pumping to three very crucial points; his heart, his head and…the family jewels.

Ginny didn't even realize he'd pushed her back on the couch until she felt his wand poking her thigh as he lay on top of her. Further exploration lead to the discovery that it was indeed not his wand that was poking her in the thigh. Not his magic one, anyway.

Draco moaned deep in the back of his throat. One of her legs was in between his and he knew she was torturing him on purpose. Need was pounding and his head was spinning. Why did it feel so naughty doing this when they were, after all, married?

Ginny's eyes opened as Draco pulled away from her a little. His own eyes were closed, and a look of guilt and regret was passing through his head. Ginny sat up, wondering what it was he was regretting. "Draco?" she asked hesitantly.

Draco's eyes were still shut. Why did it feel so wrong? Because they were in someone else's house; their friend's house. On his sofa. Even if Ginny was his housemate, it wasn't her place.

Draco opened his eyes. "We can't do this here." He said, disappointment flagging him down. Ginny glanced down, then toward the back of the apartment. "Should we take this to my room?" she asked. Draco shook his head, getting up off her. "We can't do this here. Not in Blaise's house." The mention of Blaise brought a sharp stab of something to Ginny's chest. Maybe this was the same guilt Draco felt. Or something else. Ginny's heart was beating too fast for her to focus on it.

"Oh." She said softly, sliding out from under Draco as he collapsed on the other side of the couch, closing his eyes in what looked like troubled agony. Ginny collapsed in the chair across from him, some sort of unique pain registering in herself.

She wanted this; the safety of a steady pair of arms. Arms that would embrace her with more than just the intent of removing her bra. She wanted what Hermione and Ron had. She wanted this. She wanted to be married. Looking at Draco, she wondered if it wasn't marriage, but love.

Could she still have love? Was it out of the question now that she was married to Draco? Or was that just all part of it?

……………………..

Pansy was lounging in her room, alone once more. Her long silver necklace was being wound frantically and jerkily around her fingers as she stared into the ornate design of her oriental rug, her smooth brow creased in contemplation.

A knock sounded at the door and she immediately smoothed that line of emotion, caressing her features back into their tailored vacuity, her face dispassionate and blasé as she leaned back, relaxing her body on the divan as well.

Readjusting the necklace, she raised one fair white arm, snapping her well-manicured fingers together in a simple movement that did no go unnoticed as the house-elves stirred in the shadows.

A few moments later and footsteps announced the arrival Pansy had been waiting for. Nevertheless, it was not the one she'd been hoping for; the soft, slinking steps did not belong to her love's feet.

Within moments, a thin, pale, mousy man slipped into the room with little more than a whisper of noise. Bowing so low that his needle-like nose nearly pierced his kneecaps, the man greeted Pansy's floor in a manner reminiscent of earlier, more noble days.

"Mistress Parkinson, I presume?" he didn't bother to look for her nod of accord; his nose stayed low to the ground, and his eyes focused on his feet. "My ladyship, I trust you have been in good health?"

"Good health and good spirits, as always, and even if it were not so, it is no less customary for the same response; do leave off with the formalities, Mr. Blaeden. It is Mr. Blaeden, I assume?" likewise, the acknowledgment of his name wasn't witnessed by Pansy as she snapped her fingers again.

Another house-elf entered the room, its' nose even more perpendicular to the ground, as if determined not to be outdone by a stranger not belonging to the mistress. In its' firm grasp was a tea tray, which it placed on the table next to Pansy before disappearing back into the shadows.

Pansy poured herself a cup, but did not offer any to the mousy man still bowing low at her doorway. It was not until she had taken a leisurely sip of her tea that she again turned her attention to the man. "Oh, for Rowena's sake, stand up!" she huffed, a single strand of blonde hair falling into her face.

The man straightened his back, still in the doorway.

"Your owl was received this morning. I came as soon as possible to see if I could be of some assistance." The man told his left shoe. Pansy's lips tipped down in a slight frown. "If you couldn't be of any assistance, I would have had no reason to summon you, would I?"

The man said nothing, still avoiding her eye, almost defiantly. "I suppose that is so, madam." Pansy sighed. She knew there was not much room she could make in this situation; her father before her had dealt with the Blaedens of Luton and she had heard of their insufferable lack of respect while showing a complete mask of respect.

"That is all very well, but the reason I called you here is that I need a favour to ask you." The man's cerulean eyes lit up in interest, though they remained firmly fixed on his clasped hands. "A favour? Surely your father told you that in all of his dealings with my father, the Blaedens never do favours." Pansy's grasp tightened on her teacup.

"Fine, a job for you then." She snapped, politeness and gentility gone as her face turned sour. "I need information…on two subjects." She paused and waited as the man pulled his wand casually from his robes and summoned a piece of paper. Wand poised over the parchment floating in midair, the man gave a quick nod of his head.

"Ginevra Weasley, daughter of Arthur and Molly Weasley, and Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy." The man's wand moved across the page. "It has recently come to my attention that the two have been married, in which case I need to know all the details, including what they plan to do in their marriage. If there is any sign of estrangement or, Salazar forbid, divorce, I want you to owl me immediately. As it stands, I expect a preliminary report in nine days' time."

And with that, Blaedon was dismissed and Pansy went back to sipping her tea, watching the shadow of a man recede and disappear, all the while smirking inwardly, satisfaction written clearly in her clear blue eyes.

…………………

Ginny finally sighed, pulling herself from the chair she was in.

"Listen, Malfoy…we need to talk. Do you want to go get a drink or something?"

Draco glanced up at his wife, experiencing a thrill as he realized she was his forever. Possessiveness swept over him and he found he rather liked the idea of being bonded to her. She'd never leave him.

"Yeah, why not."

…………………….

Blaise Apparated into his flat rather late that evening. He supposed he ought to have gotten smashed at home instead of the nearest pub from Pansy's place. It would have helped if he had thought of it before getting hammered and Apparating in on a young witch and wizard fooling around on their living room floor.

Staggering only slightly, Blaise dropped his cloak in the middle of the floor. "Sparky, get your arse in here, I need to talk!" he shouted, grinning drunkenly. Until the realization that she was indeed married to his friend sunk into his intoxicated mind. The thought was rather depressing and warranted a whole new round of Firewhiskey.

Flaming, engulfing, searing fire broke loose in the pit of his stomach, and unreasonable anger and a pinch of bitterness seeped into his bloodstream, mixing with the alcohol there, breeding and spawning something he would regret in the morning. Determination spread like wildfire as his fists clenched, thinking of Ginny, who had finally found her someone.

He would not be condemned to a night alone tonight.

He scrawled out a quick note out of habit, though he felt like sending it into the flames from the fire. Stumbling over to the fireplace, he grabbed a handful of Floo powder and tossed it into the flames, shouting a destination he knew deep inside, even as he stepped into the green flare, that he didn't really want to be.

"Parkinson Place!"


	10. Alcoholic Monsoons and Hold the Phone

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I know this is short, but I really hadn't planned on updating anymore tonight. But, I have a small policy that I often ignore that if people put a review up before I'm done posting the next chapter, I'll do another one. Kind of like one of those 'buy-one-get-one-free' deals at your neighborhood gas station with the decade-old beef jerky that no one ever seems to buy. Off topic...anyway, it's short, but here it is.

The ending will knock your socks off, especially for you, GlassBroomstick.

* * *

**Mistaken Liaisons**

**Chapter Ten: Alcoholic Monsoons and Hold the Phone...

* * *

**

Ginny stirred her drink. Draco had been all for coming down to the pub, but he hadn't said a word since ordering his drink. Ginny stared off over his shoulder. A young witch and wizard in the corner opposite them were snuggled close enough to have obliterated any molecules of air between them. Ginny wondered vaguely if they were squished into the same seat before turning back to where she and Draco were sitting stiffly across from each other.

Back in the apartment it had been fine…like another one-nighter. Ginny was used to those. But then he'd stopped it. And Ginny was hit with the reality of it; she was married to Draco Malfoy. This wasn't just some guy she could sleep with and move on; this was it, there was no 'after' Draco. Draco was going to be the rest of her life.

And she knew that she couldn't live with that. Reputation aside, she couldn't go through with this. While she might begin to love Draco eventually and even possibly be reciprocated with the whole mutual love thing, they just weren't meant to be together. Something was telling her that. She didn't know what, but she knew it was better to put a stop to it all before things got out of hand.

Now if only he'd make eye contact with her.

"Are you going to talk or not?" she finally asked, setting her spoon down with a clank and noting for the first time that her drink wasn't one that needed to be stirred, let alone subjected to the small typhoon she'd put it through.

Draco glanced up at her. "What do you want to talk about?" he asked curiously. Ginny sighed. "This marriage." She said shortly. Draco shrugged. "What is there to talk about? We're married, that's all."

Ginny frowned, taking a gulp and proceeding to wipe her mouth. "I just…I don't know. Marriage is a big thing. I never really wanted marriage." Draco snorted. "Neither did I, but I'm not complaining." He flushed, drowning out the realization of what he'd just said with another sip of his drink.

Ginny sighed. "I can't do this, Draco." She said softly, unsure of his reaction. Draco didn't even look up from his drink. "Didn't think so. How could anyone ever be willingly married to a Malfoy, right?" he settled back into a comfortable sneer. Anger shot through Ginny as she watched the personality progress he'd made flush down the loo like the Weasley's Wizard-Weed Blaise had nearly caught her smoking in the bathroom once.

That had been an interesting experience.

"Draco, look. You can't think this is about you, alright?" she said, trying not to sound pissy, even though she really, really was. Draco snorted. "Of course not. You're just not a marriage kind of girl, right? Every other woman in the world might want to be married to a young, handsome man who loves her, but that's not you, is that what you're trying to say? Because if it is, just shut up, yeah?" he snapped, barely containing his voice to a dull roar.

Ginny had faltered at the 'young, handsome man who loves her' part, but she rose up heatedly as he slumped back in his chair. "Maybe you're right, maybe I do want marriage!" she shouted and triumph and pain mingled in the glare he shot her. The other pub patrons were staring at her as if she'd cracked. Perhaps she had.

"The point is, _Draco_" she hissed "that I don't know what I want. I don't know if I'll ever be ready for marriage. But I do know that I can't live like this. I don't doubt I could learn to love you and maybe possibly you could love me. Oh, yes, you are capable of love, you bastard, if you'd just stop feeling sorry for yourself and being so bloody angry with the whole world. But it won't work. Passion and lust can't hold a marriage together and though I'm sure I'd come to care for you, we wouldn't be happy. Not forever. And marriage for me would have to be forever. So I'm sorry, alright? I'm sorry I can't make up my mind. I'm sorry if I've bruised your frail ego and I'm sorry that I just can't be married to you forever!" she slumped back in her chair, breathing somewhat erratically.

Draco stared at her for a long time, his face unreadable. When he finally did speak, it was carefully contained in a voice that was sure to not give away whatever it was he was feeling. And as he spoke Ginny knew that however much she had hurt them both, she had made the right decision. He wasn't an emotional person and she was too much of one. They would have learned to hate each other before they would learn to love each other.

"You think I'm capable of love?" he questioned her. Ginny sighed, feeling exhausted from her tirade that had scared away most of the customers in the dim-lit pub. "I know you are. You're going to find someone out there who's perfect for you and you're going to understand what real love is. But I'm not that person. And I don't want to drag you into a marriage that will only damage the both of us. We both have our whole lives ahead of us. Let's make the best of it as we see fit; I'm inclined to try for a divorce. The rest is up to you." She said wearily.

Draco stared down at his hands. "I'm game." He stated.

Ginny blinked.

And Draco smirked.

Things were going to be fine.

………………..

"That's it! Get the fuck out of my bar!"

Draco pulled Ginny back from the doorway just as a portly wizard was hurled through it, landing a few feet out into the street. Rythmi stood in the doorway, a full-length gypsy skirt stained with what looked like a glass of one of her more deadly concoctions. Draco glared at the witch who had gotten him into this whole mess.

As the wizard toddled off somewhat drunkenly, Ginny stepped forward, muttering a Cleaning Spell. Rythmi glanced down as the stain vanished. She turned a cheeky face up to Ginny as the two embraced warmly. "Thanks, GingerAle. Bastard was coming on to me all night." She said as she let Ginny go, jerking her head in the direction the drunk had wandered off in.

The three of them disappeared into the bar, which was full and noisy. They sat down at a round table in a secluded corner. "So, what's the emergency you owled me about?" she asked, retying a polka-dot scarf around her neck. Ginny sighed, twisting the silver wedding ring off her finger and placing it in the middle of the table. Rythmi glanced at it. "That's one of those wedding rings from the night you came down here, isn't it?" she asked.

Ginny nodded. "Rythmi…I need you to tell me everything about that night. We can't remember what happened and we need to know, especially the person who married us." Rythmi blinked. "Married you?" she asked. Ginny sighed. "Rythmi…Draco and I were married that night."

Rythmi's eyes bored a hole into Ginny's head as she stared uncomprehendingly at her and then at Draco and then at the ring on the table and then at the ring on Draco's finger and then back at Ginny and around a few more dozen times until a hand went to her mouth…and she burst out laughing.

"No, you weren't!"


	11. Irish Whatsies?

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I swear to god, this is the last chapter for tonight. I don't update for forever and then bam-bam-bam-bam-kapow! Instant, catastrophic meltdown, guns blazing, planes flying, World War III, no one has a clue what's going on. And me, sitting in my room, bouncing and giggling madly. Enough with the daydreams. Here is chapter eleven, lucky, lucky eleven. I hope you ejoy. There's a lots of twisties and turnsies and fun stuffs that make you want to take a bottle cap to your head and dance the corkscrew. Fun. Fuckers. I don't know what the hell is wrong with me. Apparently two hours of sleep does more than any energy drink can. Energy drink can! I want one of those...

**DISCLAIMER: **Well, what do you think? Not mine unless it doesn't belong to J. K. Rowling.

* * *

**Mistaken Liaisons**

**Chapter Eleven: Irish Whatsies?

* * *

**

Pansy smiled to herself, stretching her arms over her head and arching her back.

Settling back in her covers, she rolled over on her side and watched Blaise sleep. He was just as god as she remembered from those wonderful Hogwarts days. Pansy had been dying to get in bed with him again for years.

A scowl stole over her face as she remembered the day Blaise had told her he was leaving his home and denying the Dark Mark. Stupid bastard gave up all that money and power…the Zabini fortune had to be three times the size of the Parkinson assets and he had thrown it all away to go live in that rat's nest of an apartment.

And then he'd taken in that ratty little stray. That red-haired menace. She hadn't been worried until she saw them together. It was unbelievable. She had never seen Blaise in that light before and it was horrifying that it was the scrawny little Weasley who got to him. Oh, and how she had gotten to him. She saw it in his eyes every time he bloody mentioned her…some sort of sick devotion and care deeper than anything Pansy ever wanted to see in her life.

It was just disgusting.

She would have worried, but it seemed neither of them were interested in each other as anything but friends. Why? Pansy had no idea. They should have loved each other and sometimes she thought they did love each other. She guessed neither of them really knew the difference between love, lust, and friendship.

Pansy watched Blaise's chest rise with every breath he took. She hoped neither of them ever did figure out the difference. She wanted Blaise for herself. Things were perfect now; Draco was married to the homely little Weasley chit and Blaise was angry at her. With any luck, he would kick her out of his apartment and Pansy would finally have her chance.

She intended to marry him.

Pansy was just settling down to sleep when a house elf appeared by her bedside, shielding its eyes. Pansy was up in a second, grabbing her robe and hastily tying it around herself, all the while kicking the house elf out the door in front of her.

Once outside Pansy's private rooms, she turned on the elf.

"What the hell do you think you're doing in my chambers? I've told you never to disturb me when I'm in there. What makes you think you're even allowed inside?" she hissed, grabbing one of the thing's leathery ears and pinching it viciously with her nails.

The elf whimpered as a drop of blood beaded on its ear. "Lilly is so sorry, Mistress. Lilly is begging Mistress's forgiveness. Lilly is a bad elf for disobeying Mistress, but Mistress says to Lilly if Mr. Blaeden calls, to get Mistress immediately."

Pansy shoved the elf away, where it cowered in the corner. "He's here, then?" she asked, straightening her hair and smoothing out her robes. The elf nodded. "Mr. Blaeden is in drawing room. Lilly is going to go iron her ears, now."

Pansy and the elf left the room. Pansy found the mousy little git waiting for her in the drawing room, his hands clasped and eyes avoiding hers as usual. "Ah, Mistress Parkinson…I trust you have been in good health?" he asked the floor. Pansy rolled her eyes, which latched greedily onto the folder in his hands.

"Yes, yes, have you got what I asked?" she asked, reaching forward and snatching the folder from his hands before he could answer her. Flipping it open, she scanned a few pages. Her eyes lost their light and her face drained of its victorious colour as she read further.

She finally looked up at the man. "What is this?" she demanded, heart racing.

Blaeden's eyes flickered up to hers for a moment and Pansy was astonished to find grim delight in their green depths.

"The truth."

…………………………

Ginny's head was reeling. She collapsed back into her chair, steadying her light head with her hand. Beside her Draco's jaw had yet to pick itself up off the table and Ginny was sure it was going to fall off soon.

Rythmi was laughing still, but she was not longer in such hysterics that she fell off her seat every five seconds.

She finally let out a breath and stopped, though her eyes were glittering.

"Oh, you poor things. You thought you were really married?" she asked, sounding both amused and pitying. Ginny found her voice somewhere on the bottom of her stomach. "Wha-yes, we thought we were married. We had these!" she held up her wedding ring and Draco pulled his off.

Rythmi shook her head, almost sadly. Ginny was panicking now.

"I remember you talking about Irish wedding legends!"

Rythmi was still shaking her head.

"We woke up in the same bed together." Ginny was starting to sound desperate for some kind of sense, so Rythmi decided to surge ahead and put her out of her misery.

"Part of the schedule for that night was this wizard who came in and did wedding ceremonies. We dressed everyone up in wedding gear and put on this whole production with rings and all. It was a kind of couples thing…we got a lot of money out of it, actually. It was surprisingly popular." She stopped, realizing Ginny was looking more confused with every word she said.

"But that's not the point." She said hastily.

Ginny's voice cracked.

"Then what is?"

……………………

"He wasn't a real priest?"

Blaeden was back to staring at inanimate objects, but he seemed to be entertained by Pansy's distress. "Mistress Parkinson, I believe everything you want to know is in that folder."

Pansy didn't notice that he slipped away without the usual formal farewell. She was too busy staring at the parchments in front of her. "He didn't have a licence." She whispered to herself, letting the folder drop to the floor.

"They're not married."

She needed a drink.

…………………….

Ginny stared at Draco. They were both now slightly mollified by a few of Rythmi's choice drinks and the offending witch had disappeared to throw out a few more kids who had gotten into some of her hard liquor.

"So, we're not married after all." Draco said finally, his voice light and amazed.

Ginny let out a laugh and with it, she felt all of the pressure that had been building up in her chest release. Soon she was enveloped in a cloud of wild laughter. Draco watched her laugh with a pang of regret.

Ginny finally came down, chuckling softly. "Oh, Merlin, I needed that." She breathed. Draco nodded and took another sip of his drink. "So, what now?" he asked, setting his glass down. Ginny's face simply wouldn't become serious, no matter how hard she tried. She was just far too elated that things had worked out this way.

"Well, I'm not too sure. I meant to tell you…I got a job offer. But it's out of the country. And since you need somewhere to stay, I thought maybe you'd like to take my place at the apartment. You know, keep the place in order for me so everything's nice and cosy when I visit for the holidays? We could stay friends, if you want." she added hastily. Draco smiled at her and she realized it was the first time he had done so around her. "I think I'd like that." He said slowly, grinning. "You're not that bad…for a Weasley." He said, throwing some money on the table for their drinks and standing. Ginny smirked. "You're not that bad…for a Malfoy." She responded, getting up and following him out of the bar with a wave to Rythmi.

He smirked. "No, I really am."

Ginny slipped her arm into his and they walked down the street in companionable comfort. "Where to?" Draco asked. Ginny sighed and her breath issued a stream of heat into the cold night air. "Well, I suppose we should go back to the apartment and-" she stopped and Draco nearly ran into her.

"Oh my giddy aunt!" she exclaimed, grabbing Draco's arm excitedly. "We have to go back to the apartment immediately and tell Blaise!" she said, jumping up and down as Draco wondered just what Rythmi had put in their drinks his time.

……………………..

Blaise stumbled into the drawing room, one of Pansy's robe belted around his waist. He found her sitting at her tea table, sipping from her cup. He took the seat across from her, noticing her pale face and drawn countenance as he reached for a scone.

"You alright?" he asked disinterestedly, buttering his scone. Pansy nodded slowly. "Yes, I am." She said, her voice normal as she watched the fire in the hearth crackle and burn merrily.

"I suppose I should go back to my apartment soon." Blaise said, taking a swig of tea. Pansy's face turned up to his. "Why?" she asked. Blaise shrugged. "I have to return sometime. I have things to do." That was entirely untrue; he was off from work for two weeks and there really wasn't anything waiting for him at home but empty rooms and the painful reminder that his Ginny was married. He didn't know how he'd ever be able to go back to that apartment. She'd be gone soon enough with Draco, the lucky bastard.

Blaise tried not to imagine being able to spend a lifetime with Ginny.

"When will you be back?" Pansy asked, clutching onto his presence. Blaise sighed. "I don't know, Pansy. This was great and all, but I think I need some time alone." Bullshit; that was the last thing he needed right now. What he needed he couldn't have and that in itself was enough to close himself in his apartment and never come out.

"Oh." Pansy saw the bitterness and regret flicker through his eyes and she pushed aside the doubts she'd had since Blaeden had left her with her choice and she took the plunge, forsaking any sense of morals she may have had.

"Well, you know…I'm sure things will be difficult, what with having a…married…couple in the apartment." She forced out, wondering why this was so difficult. It must be the shock. She saw Blaise tense slightly and she hurried on. "What I'm saying is that if you decide you need someone or even someplace to live, I'm here."

Blaise sighed, standing up. Enough with the self-pity. He had had his chance and he had missed it. She would never be his so there was really no use in agonizing over the fact. "You know what, Pansy?" he said, making up his mind on a sudden whim. "Why not."

Pansy blinked. "Why not?" she repeated, puzzled. Blaise shrugged, putting Ginny out of his mind once and for all with a painful shove that rendered something in his chest lifeless and numb. "Why not. I know how you feel about me and if I marry you, we get the Zabini fortune, so why not? Draco and Ginny are married and I don't particularly feel like living my life alone. How 'bout it, Pansy? How would you like to be Mrs. Zabini?"

Elation like she'd never experienced ripped through Pansy and she leapt to her feet, wrapping her arms around Blaise's neck and grinning with real joy. "Oh, yes, yes, yes!" she cried happily, pressing kisses to his face and ignoring the way he took them in silently and unaffectionately. What did it matter?

Soon he would be hers.

………………………..

Ginny flicked her wand and the lights in the apartment flared to life. As she slid out of her robes, she noticed something odd. The apartment smelled funny. On further inspection, and after finding the place empty, she realized with a start that it didn't smell like Blaise. It didn't have the same welcoming, indescribable smell that said 'home' more than anything the Burrow had ever smelled like.

She met up with Draco in the kitchen, having looked around the place and not found the slightest hint of Blaise's presence. The house felt cold, and Ginny was sure it had nothing to do with the snow falling grimly outside.

Draco was holding a bit of parchment in his hands when Ginny sat down across from him at the dinner table. He handed it over wordlessly. Ginny noticed that though it was undoubtedly Blaise's handwriting, it was as though he'd pulled the quill across the page with more than a little bit of trouble. She recognized it as the result of him in one of his drunken stages.

_To whomever gives a shit-_

_Came home to find the place empty and since I don't feel like sitting here alone I went off for some cheap company. If anyone cares, I'm probably buried deep in some slut somewhere, so don't bother trying to find me. I'll come back when I'm fucking ready._

_-The owner of this apartment._

Draco glanced at her as she set the note down. "What does it mean?" he asked. Ginny sighed, feeling a wave of guilt and something heavy wash over her again.

"He's at Pansy's."

…………………..

Pansy was ecstatically writing up wedding invites; this was the moment she'd dreamed of since she was a little girl. Or rather, it was the same events, just a different groom.

Not that the groom mattered.

They never had anything to do with the wedding ceremony. All they had to concentrate on was remembering their lines, not getting drunk, and giving the bride a hell of a good time on the wedding night.

She sealed the last envelope with the Parkinson-Zabini emblem she'd already merged from their family crests. Blaise would love it. Or he would as soon as he saw it; he was still asleep. Pansy sighed, beginning her work on the flower arrangements.

He had been a permanent fixture in her home since the night he proposed, if his business-like agreement could be called such. And for most of that time (one week, two days and counting) he had been asleep for most of the day, only rousing to eat, drink, use the loo, and occasionally screw around with a most willing Pansy.

Pansy thought it odd that he still hadn't gone back to his apartment, but she said nothing. She had the feeling Blaise was all too much still in love with his menace of a roommate that Pansy had worked for so long on trying to marry off so she could have Blaise to herself. And now she did, and she certainly wasn't going to send him back to his apartment or his damnable roommate.

His damnable roommate who had sent twelve owls asking where Blaise was and why he hadn't come home, and had even shown up in Pansy's drawing room one day. Pansy had burnt the letters, sent the girl away, and punished the stupid house elf who had let her in.

She wasn't planning on telling Weasley or Malfoy about her wedding plans. She intended to have a luxurious wedding, but a quick one; she didn't want the news of Malfoy and Weasley's non-marriage getting to Blaise's ears.

Timing was of the essence now. She had to marry Blaise before he found out his real love was available. Nothing was going to stand in her way.

Within another week she would be Pansy Zabini.

…………………………………

Draco yawned as he stretched, arching his back into the soft pillow placed there between him and the rough sofa. He promptly fell off as his body realized the couch was too narrow for him to be squirming about on.

Getting to his feet, Draco went into the kitchen and waved his wand at the coffee pot, which began to brew. This was part of a routine that he'd developed over the past ten days, the first of which had been interesting in the fact that Draco was often being chased around the apartment by things Blaise and Ginny had enchanted to attack one another in a part of their devious games and (as far as Draco was concerned after sporting a few good bruises and broken bones) somewhat twisted forms of entertainment.

Now that he wasn't prohibited from movement by flying, biting teabags, Draco continued his rounds. He went to the back of the apartment and opened the door to Blaise's room. He sighed, taking in the empty, made-up bed. Shaking his head softly, he made his way over to Ginny's room, still smirking as he did every time he saw the large painting hanging on the door which covered the splintered damage he had done a while back.

Ignoring the 'Fuck Off Unless You Fancy Being a Eunuch' lettering painted there, he opened the door silently. Ginny was sprawled out on the mattress, one body-length pillow parallel to her body. Her long limbs were curled around it, clutching it to her desperately and her face was pale and thin, even in sleep.

He closed the door with a sigh and went back to the coffee, pouring himself some.

It was the tenth day Blaise had been gone. Ginny had been frantic with worry the first few days. But then she got a letter from Pansy Parkinson telling her Blaise didn't want to see her right now. She hadn't left her bedroom since.

Draco had been worried at first, but now he was just plain pissed off at Blaise. Mostly because he did know Ginny Weasley and he knew just how much pain it took to break someone as strong as she was. And every time he looked at her, he saw a broken woman. Her eyes were dull and her body languid. It seemed as though she hadn't ceased crying for those seven days.

Draco was beginning to sort a few things out and it was killing him that Ginny hadn't spoken a word in five days. She only left her room to eat half-heartedly or use the loo.

Therefore Draco appropriately dropped the coffee pot when soft thudding announced the arrival of her slippers and with it, her. It was too early for her to be up, Draco thought as he repaired the mug. Ginny sighed, squaring her shoulders resolutely. Her face was dry and it seemed she had cried herself out.

"Draco?" she asked, her voice hoarse. He came over and sat down next to her. "Does it hurt you this much?" she asked in a voice that was barely above a whisper. Draco sighed and had to shake his head 'no'.

Ginny let out a breath. "I didn't think so." She said wearily. Draco frowned and held out some coffee for her. She took it gratefully. "_I'm_just his friend, Ginny." Draco said suddenly, leaving the rest unspoken. She glanced up at him with eyes that burned. "And what am I, Draco?" she asked, her voice breaking as she sought the answer in him that she had been asking herself for the past few days, ever since she felt that her heart had broken.

"What do you feel?" he asked, showing more care than Ginny had thought possible. "I don't know. He's my best friend. I don't know why, but we fit. Life seemed alright when it was with him. We matched. I can't stand the fact that he hates me. It hurts too much to even begin to think about it. I don't want him with Pansy or anyone else. He's my best friend. He understands me. He should be here…I'm supposed to be the one he goes to; I'm his best friend. But…" she paused, faltering "…but if he's just my best friend, why does it hurt so much…here?" she asked, fisting a hand over her heart.

Draco took a deep gulp from his mug. When he finally set it down, his face was grave. "I don't know. I'm no expert on matters of the heart. I never really believed it until some crazy witch came into my life and changed it forever. Don't-don't say anything." He said as she opened her mouth. He plunged ahead. "But I do know theories. And from everything I've learned in the past few weeks from you…what you just described…" he shook his head "…that isn't friendship, not even the strongest kind. It's something more."

Ginny looked down at her hands. "Then why now? Why didn't I ever realize? Why was it so hard to imagine until now?" she asked, crying once more and refreshing Draco's belief that women were built with tear ducts.

"I don't know. I don't think you ever actually considered it." He said. It made sense to him. Ginny let out a strangled scream. "So I've been in love for three years and just didn't know it? How can that be possible? When you're in love, you know it. You can feel it." She ranted, realizing that she honestly didn't know what she was talking about. She had never been in love before. All she had to go on were those trashy romance novels Hermione insisted on sending her every Christmas, perhaps in hopes that Ginny would one day just magic one of the heroes out of the book and into her apartment. But Ginny didn't know love.

"Maybe you did feel it." Draco said slowly, pulling her out of her stupor. "Maybe you mistook it for something else because you thought 'it' would feel different somehow. Maybe you thought you and Blaise were too perfect for 'it'. You never did think love was all it was cracked up to be, did you?" he asked.

Ginny scoffed. "Of course not, you git, what do you think I am, some sort of closet romantic?" Draco smirked as he saw the old Ginny rising to the surface. "Maybe that's the problem. You made love out to be something dirtier and baser and less…"

"…idealistically fairy-tale, happy-ending, romance-novel trash?" Ginny finished for him with a bitter bite in her voice.

Draco sighed. "Exactly. You never though it could be perfect, did you?"

Ginny was silent for a very long time.

"I am such an idiot." She finally breathed.

"Well, you are a Weasley, after all…"

Ginny silenced him with a blow to the gut he never saw coming.


	12. Sarcasm and a FastPaced Frenzy

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Well, I'm up late again. Here's chapter 12. I really hated it so I had to revise it, and guess what? I still hate it. So, I really hope you like it a shitload more than I do, or else I'm about to waste a lousy ten minutes of your life. But, no one really reads these things anyway, so no one will know that. In fact, I could say just about anything I wanted to...hmm...you rotten little fuckers can rot on a rotisserie stick over the flaming spit-fire of eternal damnation for all eternity. Eat hedgehog lard, you scheming lazy fuck-tards. If you must visit, please do take a pogo stick to hell and sodomize ol' Lucifer for me. Little bugger's always got a stick up his arse anyway...see you in hell, hugs and kisses, XOXO, I hope you all get shat on by a flaming guinea pig wearing your great-ant's knickers and don't be offended, I'm just a giant pissant who likes raining trouble.

Looks like there's a storm ahead.

**DISCLAIMER:** I did it. That's right. I took the cookie from the cookie jar. Now shove it up your arse, because I'm tired of explaining that I'm not J. K. Rowling, although I did piece together this marvelous story from ferret shit and badger snot. You could tell, couldn't you? The craftsmanship is absolutely appalling. Ejoy.

* * *

**Mistaken Liaisons**

**Chapter Twelve: Sarcasm and a Fast-Paced Frenzy

* * *

**

Blaise stared into the pillow he'd been semi-consciously trying to smother himself with for the past five minutes somewhat unsuccessfully. He rolled over on his back and stared up at the ceiling he'd been stuck staring at for a good ten days or so.

He hurt.

Ten days was long enough for his heart to break twenty times over and to be sick with his own sentinmentality another twenty times over and yet, he knew somehow, that no matter how much he ignored it, he would never be rid of it. That ringing, slow, cloying, choking, suffocating, dull and agonizing ache that had settled in his chest.

It hurt more than he let on. There was the added pain still sharp in his chest that Ginny and Draco (mostly just Ginny, though) were too wrapped up in each other to even care he hadn't come home in so long. She didn't even try to see him or let him know if she was coming to the wedding. He would have loved to have had her as his best man, for fun's sake. On the other hand, he was rather glad. He would never be able to marry Pansy with Ginny handing him his rings.

He kept playing his life with her over and over in his head. Every moment where he should have known he was head-over-heels for her, but for some fucked-up reason just hadn't. Love was supposed to ruin things and here it was doing it once again.

He kept remembering the way things had been and the way they would never be again. He kept remembering that special connection…that bond that made him fit to Ginny and her to him…and the regret that surfaced every time at the recollection that he'd had that glimpse of pure, unrestrained rapture and he had turned his back blindly on it. The number of women he'd had in his bed in his apartment when the only woman for him was right down the hall, often banging on the walls for him to shut the hell up.

Fondness gave way to sharp pain as nostalgia took its hold and ripped him totally to shreds. He wanted her so bad. He just wanted a chance. To be able to go back in time and change things. He just wanted to tell her how he felt…back before she had gotten married to Malfoy.

That was what hurt the most, aside from the knowledge that things would never be the same; the realization that he had the opportunities and had never taken them.

Rolling over on his side, he willed himself to slip back into sleep where things were perfect and where the pain he felt in his waking hours couldn't follow.

……………………

Ginny was staring morosely out the window. It was the fifteenth day since Blaise had left and she was forced to come to the conclusion that Blaise hated her, a conclusion that bit into her like nothing else could. That pain lead to a second conclusion.

She loved him.

But it wasn't enough. He didn't want to see her again. He was living with Pansy, for Christ's sake, that was enough to know that things were desperate. He couldn't stand Pansy and only used her in extreme emergencies when he was too drunk to charm someone else. Or broke. Ginny had sent a final letter stating that she was leaving the country and that she and Draco weren't going to really be married and that she needed to tell him something badly and that she was so sorry and that she missed him and that if he didn't respond, there was a great possibility that they might never see each other again.

It was the hardest letter she'd ever written and she put so much emotion into it that after she'd sent it off she felt physically drained. She was just about to sigh and get up to go start on her packing for her job again when a loud Apparation pop echoed through the kitchen.

Draco whirled around, seeking her. When he did, his face was flushed and a look of panic was on it. "Quick, we have to go; we have to go now!" he said, tugging at her arm urgently. Ginny barely had time to even notice the lack of appropriate clothing about her persona before Draco had Apparated them both away with a pop.

…………………..

"Draco, what the fuck are we doing out in broad daylight? I'm in my knickers!"

Draco took a moment to glance down at Ginny, who was not wearing _her_ knickers, but rather Blaise's boxers...and a tight tee with the words 'These Girls Are Great' across her breasts advertising Ginny's favourite all-women Quidditch team.

"You'll thank me eventually." He said, glancing around him. Ginny followed his gaze, unable to possibly imagine how she'd ever refrain from killing Draco, much less being grateful to him. They were on a bright, sunny lane where the sun was shining bright enough to dispel the majority of the wintery cold seeping into their skin.

"You'd better not have dragged me out in my knickers to go sight-seeing in the countryside." Ginny glared, unrolling her boxers self-consciously.

"This way." Draco said abruptly, grabbing Ginny's arm and dragging her towards a large white mansion just up the lane. "Draco, what's going on?" she asked, stumbling over a rock. Draco was panting. "I was at my last job interview…it didn't go so well after I spilled coffee on the woman…but anyway, I saw Millicent Bullstrode there. She had on this gaudy dress and I asked her why she was wearing a fancy dress, much less a dress in the first place," he said as they neared the mansion.

The buzz of conversation lifted the closer they got and Ginny could just make out a large majority of people amassed by the lake just beside the mansion.

"Well?" Ginny gasped as they made their way through the gates and started up the long lane towards the gathering. She was beginning to lag and promised herself from now on it was more Quidditch and less fucking, bloody pancakes.

Draco tugged on her arm. "Fuck, Draco, what's the rush?" she panted. Draco just pulled her along faster. "Ginny, right about now Blaise is preparing to say his wedding vows to someone he doesn't love!" Ginny would have collapsed right there if Draco hadn't been pulling her along like a kite. "What!" she gasped, picking up the pace and speeding ahead of Draco with newfound strength.

"Blaise is going to marry Pansy Parkinson in about four minutes if we don't get there to stop it."

"Oh, shit! For fuck's sake, what the hell are you doing jogging about?"

"Wha-?"

"PICK UP THOSE RUDDY KNEES MALFOY, WE'VE GOT A WEDDING TO CRASH!"


	13. No Such Luck and a Wedding

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Sorry it's so short, but what can I say? The ending had to end here. There's still more chapters ahead, but who knows where it will go. As for the wedding ceremony, it does take place and I know I've mixed the priest's speech up a bit, so deal with it. And for all of you out there who actually read last chapter's author's note and took offense, you can go right ahead and take it to heart, because no one should ever, under any circumstances, take me seriously. It's a health hazard. Loosen up, for fuck's sake. I do this partially becaue I feel like it, partially because some shrink is just waiting to slap 'anger misplacement issues' on my forehead, and partially because it's fun as hell being frank and yet lying through your teeth. Try it some day and don't take life so seriously. If I say fuck off, it's coming from the bottom of my heart with the deepest love. XOXO.

**DISCLAIMER:** Not mine if it belongs to J. K. Rowling. Anomaly? I think not. Try common sense.

* * *

**Mistaken Liaisons**

**Chapter Thirteen: No Such Luck and a Wedding**

**or **

**Funny How Often Those Two Run Hand in Hand Through the Meadow of Life **

* * *

Blaise tucked the small pin of flowers into his robes' breast pocket. He was astonished how fast the days had gone. Ginny seemed so far away now, and yet it still hurt every time he thought about her.

He tried not to think about her.

He watched as his best man, Theodore Nott, fumbled around for the rings before finding the box in his pocket. He glanced out over the people congregated in white folding chairs on the lakeside lawn of the Parkinson's country estate. Not a sign of red hair.

He sighed one last time and drove all thoughts of her from his head with such intensity that he thought he might actually cry.

He nearly did cry as a sombre, melodic tune drifted to his ears that he recognized as the bridal march. So they were starting a few minutes early. It didn't particularly matter to Blaise, but he'd have liked a few more minutes of freedom. A few more minutes deluding himself that things could still change.

Down the white carpet rolled down between the chairs came two young children with black hair, both dressed in pink. Blaise hated pink. And he hated the stupid carnation-petals they were scattering all over the place. Behind them came the maid of honour, Millicent Bullstrode, somewhat decent-looking if it weren't for the unspeakably ugly dress she was wearing. A pasty pale pink colour, it was frilly and slinky and poofy all in the wrong places.

Blaise decided it would be better if he didn't watch the rest of the bridesmaids. He only glanced up as the crowd let out a collective sigh. Down the aisle came Pansy Parkinson on the arm of her father.

Pansy actually looked radiantly beautiful and freely happy for one of the few times Blaise had ever seen. Her lovely blonde hair was cascading around her bare shoulders that the sleeveless wedding dress-robes bared to the world. The full white skirt trailed for a long time behind her.

Blaise barely noticed when Pansy took her place next to him and they kneeled before the priest at the altar. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…" Blaise tuned out the old man's voice. Pansy had been so odd in choosing a minister, insisting that the man prove himself with credentials and the like. Odd.

He felt his thoughts slide back in Ginny's direction, so he snapped out of himself and turned an ear to what the priest was droning on about now. "-anyone here today who believes these two should not be joined for all eternity, may they speak now or forever more remain silent."

There was a span of silence that settled over the gathered as if someone was waiting for something. Blaise felt Pansy tense beside him before he realized that he himself was coiled up, waiting.

The silent only lasted a moment, however, and no one spoke up.

The minister nodded. "Let us proceed." He intoned deeply, turning to Pansy as a sort of immense disappointment settled over him. He'd been hoping she would show up at the last minute somehow.

"Do you, Pansy, take this man, Blaise, as your husband, sacred in all aspects of your union, in times of worry and in times of hardship and in times of pain, to forever more bind to your heart?"

Pansy's smile faltered a little and she snuck a glance at Blaise. His face was impassive and his eyes blank. "I do." She said, still staring at the man beside her. The priest turned to Blaise. "And do you, Blaise, take this woman Pansy, as your wife, sacred above all else and taken to be held as your life, in times of worry, and in times of hardship, and in times of pain, to forever more bind to you heart?"

Wild pain ripped through Blaise as he stopped imagining it was a dream and that it was Ginny, not Pansy by his side. His heart was screaming in agony at him to stop, he knew what he was doing was so wrong that it tore at every fibre of his being.

He opened his mouth, his own death sentence on his lips as he mentally said good-bye forever to Ginny. He felt a tear escape his eye and his released his breath.

"I d-"

"BLAISE, NO!"


	14. Secrets Revealed or Crashing the Wedding

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **SQUEEE! Oh, I can't help it, I just love this story. Beware, though. This chapter tends to cross over o the cheesy side. It's all Draco's fault really. But enough of that. I just wanted to warn you to have a pillow to cuddle (or scream into) and a wastebin and refreshing glass of water. And barf bag. And Cheese-Its. I like Cheese-Its. They remind me of this chapter. Crunchy. ? I don't know. I just love this story. Plese ejoy. This is sort of the last chapter, I hope you've ejoyed the ride and I hope it wasn't TOO bumpy.

**DISCLAIMER:** Not mine if it belongs to J. K. Rowling

* * *

**Mistaken Liaisons**

**Chapter Fourteen: Secrets Revealed**

**or**

**Crashing the Wedding**

**or **

**What's Cheese Got to Do With It?

* * *

**

The entire collected congregation let out a series of gasps and murmurs that drowned out the roar in Blaise's head as he nearly keeled over right there and kicked the bucket. He leapt to his feet, searching for the woman who the voice belonged to.

The minute he caught sight of that awkward red hair sticking out at all angles and tangled beyond hell, he knew he had been about to make the biggest mistake of his life. Married or not, there was no on for him in the world but Ginny Weasley.

The shock of having the wedding crashed by a crazed-looking young woman in the groom's nightclothes sent a few of the more elderly viewers into a fainting frenzy. The rest of the assembled just stared in shock as Ginny walked wearily the rest of the way to the aisle. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Nott decided that this was an interference with the wedding and that as the best man, it was his duty to get rid of it.

Blaise hadn't even seen the man go for his wand; he was too caught up in staring at Ginny who, despite her bedraggled appearance in his knickers, looked more painfully beautiful than Pansy in all her carefully made-up bridal splendour. He was surprised to hear Pansy calmly address Nott.

"No, let her speak." She said, her voice only tinged with regret of what she knew to be a game played and lost. Ginny eyed Pansy warily before coming to a stop before them, successfully tripping over her bare feet. Her eyes were locked on Blaise and he was surprised to see something vaguely familiar and both frightening and welcome in her avid gaze.

"I'm sorry…" she said nervously, her eyes glazed, before snapping out of it and tearing her eyes from Blaise's to face the wedding-goers momentarily. "Everyone…everyone, I'm terribly sorry for breaking into things, but I'm afraid I have to speak my peace." She turned back and her eyes immediately locked with Blaise's again. "After that, if you want, you can go back to your wedding and I'll leave you and go drink myself to death on champagne at the reception. If you want me out of your life, I will go, but I have to say something first."

Blaise's eyes were scared and wide all at the same time, watching Ginny from a few feet higher as she remained on ground level below the altar, staring up at him with the same confused and yet sure gaze.

She opened her mouth and closed it just as quickly. Taking a deep breath, she sighed, extending her arms to either side of her in a helpless gesture, her palms up, letting them fall weakly at her sides. "I love you, Blaise. I know you hate me right now and I know that even before you hated me, you cared for me only as a best friend, but I can't help it. I love you. I don't know for how long. Maybe from the beginning. Maybe just for the past six minutes. I honestly don't know. But I'm an idiot for taking so long to figure it out either way. I don't know if you ever felt anything for me, or if I've gone and ruined your wedding for no good reason. If I have, I'm sorry…to you too, Pansy...nice dress, by the way…but I had to know…I just couldn't let you slip away without knowing just how big of a twit I am. And that's actually rather considerable. I don't want to let you go, Blaise. Something happened that never should have and I was given the biggest chance of any life time and I didn't take advantage of that. I fell in love with the best roommate I ever had, despite the fact that he really does snore horribly. Sometimes I want to kill you for the things you do…but when it's you, it doesn't matter. Anyone else would bugger the hell out of me. Not you. With you, it doesn't matter it you steal my shampoo or go through my drawings or flush the loo when I'm in the shower because it's _you_. And by the way, I've nearly killed Fred and George for messing with my paints once, and Ron sported donkey ears for a week because he turned the water on while I was in the shower and I hate it whenever anything like that happens. But they don't apply to you, for some god-forsaken reason I don't understand. I don't care. Because no matter what you do, I can't help but love you, you sot. Yes, yes, I should have known and I know this is the worst possible time to tell you, but there it is; I'm in love with you, Blaise Zabini. Forever." With a deep exhale, she took a weak step back, her head spinning and her heart racing as she waited for Blaise's response. If he kicked her out and married Pansy, Ginny knew that would be the end of her and she hoped Parkinson had booked good champagne.

Draco came from behind her and she was glad as she nearly collapsed into his arms, black spots dotting her vision as she felt sick. Perhaps month-old pancakes weren't edible after all.

Blaise's eyes latched onto the arm supporting Ginny.

"Even if all that were true, Ginny…you're married and no matter how much I want to murder Draco and sweep you off you feet, I can't, any more than I can change the fact that you're married. Even if I were to tell you that I want to kick myself into a coma because I realized I'm just as much in love with you as you are with me…even if I wanted to tell you that I've been awake at night for days trying to smother myself for not realizing the obvious sooner…nothing can happen. You're married. And it's about time I was." He said sadly, beginning to wonder just where Pansy was keeping the champagne and why it was so well-hidden. Weddings were depressing.

Ginny turned, a confused face meeting a similarly puzzled one of her almost-but-thank-all-the-cheese-in-Britain-not-quite-husband.

"Um, Blaise? I think you're a wee bit confused." She said slowly. Blaise stared at her, beginning to adopt the same look of confusion she was. "About what? You're married. End of story. Bring on the champ-er…vows. I do solemnly swear…not to get piss-arsed drunk at my wedding…hmm…well, you're married, anyway…" He trailed of, muttering as the assembled guests looked at him in horror and some began trying to contact St.Mungo's.

"Er…not exactly." Ginny said, eyebrows furrowed. "Did you actually read those letters or just ignore the fact that yes, I do in fact, exist?" she asked, only a bit spitefully, for which she mentally shook hands with herself and congratulatingly slapped her mental self on her mental self's mental 'bad-arse' arse; which then nearly knocked her unconscious as it was quite a difficultly mind-twisting thought that her brain wasn't quite ready for yet as it was still calculating how many champagnes it would take to make Nott look like Blaise.

"What letters?" Blaise asked, bringing Ginny back to reality. Now just about everyone was confused. Ginny's mouth set in a frown. "The well over a dozen bloody letters I sent you after you took off without a proper good-bye for over two weeks, during which you tried to erase me from existence and keep the fact that you were getting married secret from me! And I don't take too well to being nearly erased out of existence, thank you!" Ginny said heatedly as Draco restrained her from doing any damage to Blaise's dress robes.

If Draco knew him as he thought he did, they were probably rentals. Upon further speculation, he realized they were indeed, not rentals, but Draco's. The ones he'd thought Pansy had stolen. Upon further thought, he decided she probably had.

Blaise shook his head slowly, panic setting in, along with age-old denial as his brain screamed rapid instructions at him in hopes he would get so confused that he'd just lie down and die and not make it deal with this whole ordeal. "What letters? There were no letters; I know because I checked every bloody day, hoping you'd care enough to write to me at least. If you don't believe me, ask-" He cut off mid-sentence, turning slowly on a pivot to his blushing bride-to-be, red with humiliation.

"-Pansy." He finished and every guest present heard the soft sledgehammer click as everything fell into place for the three people at the front of the procession. Pansy sighed, tossing aside her bouquet and pulling her veil from the top of her head, toying with it anxiously.

"There were some letters, Blaise." She admitted, though she knew by now that he had figured everything out. "I just didn't want to lose you either." She said softly and Blaise would have sworn he had seen tears in her eyes as she tossed her veil at Ginny's feet in a symbol of defeat.

"You win, Weasley." She said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "He's in love with you. I've known longer than he has. For three bloody years he's been in love with you and he never knew it." She shook her head almost sadly as she walked down the aisle, ruined. She stopped next to a flabbergasted Ginny, giving her a watery, wry smile.

"You're a lucky girl. You had the courage to tell him something I never had the chance to. He's yours." She turned as if to go, but paused. She closed her eyes, as if it were paining her to say it, but she did so anyway. "Just, don't let him go off and do something stupid…you know how he's prone to be. You have him. Don't ever let him go."

Ginny watched Pansy take a few more steps before Disapparating. She had more respect for the older witch than she had ever had before. She turned as she felt a hand on her shoulder. Draco was staring at her with a small smile of regret on his face. "She's right you know. I made the same mistake and it's the worst thing I ever did. Don't let him go." He said taking out his own wand and preparing to Disapparate. Ginny reached out to touch his arm, her heart going out to him.

He shrugged and smirked. "No. You're right. We don't belong together." He said, smiling sadly at her. "You two do." He said, gesturing to her and Blaise, who had appeared behind her and fixed her with such an intense stare that Ginny forgot Draco was there. He noticed and Disapparated with a small pop, leaving Ginny and Blaise to themselves in the middle of a huge mass of people.

Ginny swallowed, suddenly nervous as she looked down at her feet, only to realize she wasn't wearing any shoes.

"Did you mean it?" she jerked her head up. Blaise was staring down at her and Ginny was trying desperately to edge away quietly now. The whole confrontational aspect hadn't quite come into play in her mental scheme yet. She had imagined only herself flying-tackling Pansy and beating off the priest with her fluffy slippers, which she had unfortunately, left at home. She hadn't thought about what would happen after she stopped the wedding of the year. That presented quite a problem as she opened her mouth and no words came out.

But Blaise was waiting expectantly and almost desperately, so she scraped the first thing off the top of her brain.

"Every word." She said somewhat breathlessly, her eyes never leaving his, and wondering where in the hell all her articulate-ness went. But she wasn't sure if she could pull her gaze away away. His eyes were telling her so much. One of his large, tan hands came up to her cheek, his thumb caressing it and Ginny's eyes slid shut, a soft sound somewhere between a sigh and a gasp escaping her lips as electricity shot through her. Blaise just felt right. She had never felt so moved by such a simple touch.

She felt a tear slip from her eye and before she knew it, his mouth was on her cheek, kissing the tear away in a scenario that was disgustingly similar to one of those romance books Hermione had super-glued to her face whenever she got the chance. "Every word?" he asked, sounding short on breath as he touched his lips gently to her other cheek, which was going a dusky pink. Ginny nodded, her brain saying 'to hell with Hermione', and her eyes still closed as she relished the sensational feel of Blaise like she'd never felt before.

"You loved me from the beginning?" he asked softly, pressing his lips to her left eyelid and she could feel him shaking. She began feeling nervous as the profoundness of it all hit her. "I think so…I just didn't realize…" words failed her as his other hand came up and his thumb brushed the juncture of her jaw and her ear in a tender caress.

"Am I really the best roommate you've ever had?" Blaise breathed softly, unable to speak much louder as he pressed another kiss to her other eyelid reverently, as he'd only dreamed of doing. Ginny was shaking as well and it was almost as if her brain couldn't quite take in the fact that indeed, her best friend was kissing her and indeed, she liked it very, very much, indeed, indeed, indeed. "Yes." She breathed, her arms coming up to wrap around his neck as she pulled him closer insistently, taking the plunge that scared her out of her wits because it firmly crossed the border of lifelong friends and floated dangerously in the shallows of quick-shag. She wanted more.

"And…" he whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of her lips "…do I really snore?" he asked seriously. Ginny snorted and she knew she wasn't as feminine as she would have liked to have appeared. "Absolutely." She said and pressed her lips to his.

Voldemort and all his little DeathEater cronies could have come up right then and all Avada-ed her arse and she felt she wouldn't have been so much as scraped. Because wrapped up in Blaise's arms, with his mouth on hers and his arms holding her gently as if she was the most precious and fragile thing in the world to him, and yet firmly and almost desperately as if he could never let her go…Ginny had never felt safer in her entire life.

And she promised she would never let Blaise go.

Even if he did steal her shampoo.

That promise would come into question the day Blaise used her soap without asking, but for now Ginny felt as if nothing would come between them.

Until the wedding photographer Apparated with a pop next to them, camera in hand.

"Am I late! Where's the happy bride and groom? Oh, here we are!"

Blaise and Ginny jumped apart as a brilliant flash nearly blinded them.

"CREEVEY!"

………Fin………

………(But Not Really!)...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: wasn't that disgustingly sappy and fluffy? Eeew. But I love it sooooo much. Let me know what you think, or I shan't give you the epilogue I've already written. Yeah, like anyone wants to read more.


	15. Crossing the Boundary or Chess, Anyone?

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** I wanted to thank you all for your reviews and inform you that sadly, this story has taken a turn for the worse and is consequently more than another twenty pages long, so there's going to be a few more epilogues of epilogues or whatnot and maybe a one-shot sequel. I dunno. But, this chapter is pretty bad. Not everything is peachy keen until the end, either. There's still a few more obstacles left for our couples. Ejoy.

**DISCLAIMER: **Not mine if it belongs to J. K. Rowling.

* * *

**Mistaken Liaisons**

**Chapter Fifteen: Crossing the Boundaries**

**or**

**Chess, Anyone?

* * *

**

Somewhere in the middle of a fray that had started with Blaise nearly putting Colin's eye out with his camera, Ginny managed to stumble out, only slightly scathed by some old hag's long green nails. Blaise was right behind her as nearly everyone involved in the fight forgot who it was that started it and proceeded to trample Colin into nice fertilizer for the Parkinson's lakeside lawn.

"Ginny!" Blaise called, catching up to her. "Are you alright?" he asked, catching her at her elbows and looking her over for any signs of massive trauma. Ginny was snickering to herself. "Green fingernails at a wedding? That's too tacky to even be Slytherin."

Blaise just stared at her in shock and disbelief for a few seconds as he felt his old Ginny come back. "You're one weird kid, d'you know that?" he asked finally, with a surge of familiar warmth, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close with every intention on messing with her hair so horrendously that it would take centuries to untangle and in later generations would rival Hagrid's as the prime nesting grounds for the larger part of England's Niffler population.

Bad idea.

The second Blaise's arm went around her shoulders, he felt her body slide in next to his like two well-slicked pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. He had never before noticed how absolutely perfect she was. Not just as a woman or a friend or a person, but how perfect she was for him. He wondered where this newfound sentimentality was coming from and whether or not it would continue through the rest of their lives…however they worked out. He hoped not…he didn't really like mushy feelings.

Ginny must have felt the same thing because her face went serious and she closed her mouth, trying not to blanche, but the second she looked up at him, she found she was unable to tear her eyes from Blaise's. "So…where now?" he finally asked, wondering why he had images of Hagrid and Nifflers running rampant in his head before they were completely squashed by the sudden naughty thought of just what he could do to her with the knowledge of the map of every single one of her sensitive spots. Tickling would never be the same.

His head cleared as Ginny let out a gasp and slid out of his arms. "Oh, fuck!" she exclaimed and Blaise was glad they were far from the elderly ladies of the wedding, who would most likely have carried Ginny off and made Blaise marry Pansy if they'd heard the string of curses that following, involving several interesting kitchen utensils, several gods, a few teachers, and a plethora of words in other languages that Blaise wasn't entirely sure he wanted translated.

Ginny turned to Blaise, a dawning expression on her face. "Oh, Blaise…" she trailed off and her face was so crestfallen that Blaise moved in to comfort her. He stopped, noticing that he had an arm protruding from his chest. He looked down to see that the fist embedded in his stomach was attached to one suddenly spit-fire-looking demon. "You stupid git!" she cried, socking him in the stomach again three more times.

Blaise caught her fists, somewhat winded. "What did I do this time?" he gasped. Ginny was struggling to hit him more, apparently having forgotten her pledge of eternal love not half an hour ago. "You bloody wanker, you didn't read my letters, did you?" Blaise rolled his eyes. "I thought we established that…after turning Pansy into a tomato and in front of many, many people I know and will hear from on this matter for years to come?"

Ginny glared at him, but stopped trying to pummel his face off. "I'm moving out of the country in two days, you nitwit!" she cried. "I finally got a job, but it's in Italy and I tried telling you, but you were holed up in Parkinson Central for too long, so I accepted and I'm leaving in two days, you buggering twit!" she cried, letting her body collapse against Blaise's in a feeble attempt to drive her skull through his chest.

Blaise sighed, rubbing her back as a sharp pain hit his chest that had nothing to do with her head. "I'm sure we'll figure something out." He said, knowing how much her job meant to her…finally having a steady job after being blacklisted for so long was something he knew she dreamed about as an independent woman. He would never be able to ask her to forsake it for him, especially so soon and when their relationship was as of yet still undefined.

"In the meantime…I can think of a few fun things we can do until then." He said, waggling his eyebrows. Ginny pulled away from him momentarily, her eyes wide and real fear shooting through them unexpectedly. "You want to shag?" she asked in surprise. The idea hadn't yet entered her mind yet. She was still trying to get used to the feel of him holding her as something more than a friend. The thought just struck her as if it were the most inconceivable thing in the world. Blaise had to let out a laugh, though he knew she'd probably kill him for it. "I thought that was pretty obvious with the whole proclamation of love thing." He chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before noticing her face was serious.

"I just didn't think you'd want to rush things…move so fast. I thought this was…different." The second the words left her mouth they sounded stupid and she wanted to suck them up and swallow them and Obliviate the hell out of Blaise. She sounded like one of those whiny, needy little bints that moped all over the place. She was about to turn away when she felt Blaise's finger tilting her chin up so she could face him.

"Get this, Gin. I love you. No matter if I shag you in twenty years when you're old and grey or if I throw you down and shag you right outside what was supposed to be my wedding. I want to make love to you…so much. I think it's been three years of waiting for me, oblivious git that I was. But I want you. You do realize that for the past few minutes, I've been steadily thinking of Snape and Trelawny in some highly imaginative situations solely for the fact that if I didn't, I'd have to throw you down right now in the middle of the day and shag your brains out so that you'll never be able to ride a broom properly again? But I can wait for you…with some serious constraint, at least. So in the two days before you have to leave me, we can play chess or talk about mushrooms or hex the snot out of each other or shag the life out of each other. I just want you. Whenever. I'd say I wanted you to be happy and love me as much as I love you, but I don't think I could do it with a straight face."

If anyone heard that declaration, they'd be in a puddle on the floor; a transformational process Ginny was trying to counteract as her knees were replaced with jelly in a sickeningly romantic way.

"Good. You're making me sick, Zabini. I don't need the heart-felt love declarations. By the way, whatever you've been thinking of apparently hasn't been working, and if any of those elderly ladies came out here, they'd die of shock, and I don't think they'd be as happy to see Blaise Jr. as apparently he is to see me."

Blaise swung his outer dress robes off and held them in front of him, going a little red at the ears.

"Oh, and I will not be old and grey in twenty years, you sot, though you will be if you ever get that romantic on me again. What do you say we head back to the apartment?"

Blaise smirked. "Chess, is it?" he asked, taking her hand in his and twining their fingers in a way that felt so right and yet so naughty as the back of his hand brushed against her thigh as they walked down the lane, discovering one of Ginny's fluffy white slippers on the way.

Before they Disapparated, Ginny turned to Blaise and pressed close to him, leaning in and kissing his jaw softly and consequently doing a world of damage to Blaise Jr.

"Chess can be so incredibly…orgasmic…if it's played the right way." She whispered suggestively, rubbing a hand up his chest and making him shudder, sending a thrill through her as she surged ahead and broke the bonds of friendship into something much more. "Well, Sparky. I never was that great at chess…you will teach me how to play properly, won't you?" he was surprised at how instantly his body reacted to just her words. This really had to be love.

Ginny smirked as she traced the edge of his ear with her nose, her eyes closed as his hair tickled her cheeks. "Oh…I imagine you'll get the…thrust…of it. It's not all that difficult once you get started."

"You wicked, wicked slut."

"Yeah, but I'm your wicked, wicked slut now and your only hope for how to learn 'chess', so you might as well get used to it. Come on Blaise, let's go home."

……….Fin………

……….(But Not Entirely!)………..


	16. Sex or Not, It's Still Chess GonadPops

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Warning: non-intended fluff ahead. It's supposed to be funny, but I'm not sure if I succeeded or not, so you'll just have to let me know, won't you? Hope you ejoy the chapter and there is, yes, more on the way.

**DISCLAIMER: **Not mine if it belongs to J. K. Rowling

* * *

**Mistaken Liaisons**

**Chapter Sixteen: Sex or Not, It's Still Chess**

**or**

**Gonad-Popsicles

* * *

**

The second Ginny landed in the apartment she was tackled by six feet and many stone of lusting male. Somehow she managed to break the tremendous vacuuming vortex of suction his mouth was creating on hers and pulled away, trying to drink air into her lungs.

It didn't help that Blaise was staring at her with the hungriest expression on his face. There was lust…oh gods, was there lust in his eyes…but there was more. So much more that it would have taken her months to decipher every emotion that was passing through his eyes. He didn't even understand half of them, though he was, by his own admission, a certifiable git of the first degree.

But she could see…so clearly in his eyes…enduring faithfulness…tremulous fear…hedging uncertainty…desperate want…gentle adoration…and a thousand other feelings both tender and passionate at once and already she was nauseous. Romantic shite like this just wasn't supposed to happen in real life. Eyes were nice. You couldn't read them.

At least, Ginny wished she couldn't read them.

Because apparently she could. And they read 'forever'.

Marriage alert was sounding off and her gamophobic senses kicked into action as she shielded herself from the arduous stare of the man she so badly wanted to fool around with right now. But would senseless shagging ruin them? Was it worth it? Was she reading too much into this?

His eyes were scaring her.

"Oh, fuck." She was surprised at how soft her own voice was and how decidedly weak she felt. Her heart and her brain and her feet were all screaming at her all to do different things as everything descended into a whirl of shadows and mirages in a very trippy, hallucinogenic way that reminded Ginny just why she never tried out any of Fred and George's new products. The next thing she knew she was standing in the middle of Ron and Hermione's flat, her wand shaking in her hand as she let herself sink into the concerned arms of her brother and sister-in-law.

………………..

Draco sighed, setting down the bottle.

"I don't believe it. I can't understand it, _and_ I just don't like it."

Blaise's head lifted up from the sofa. "What?" he mumbled.

A series of clanking sounds followed as Draco waded back over to the chair he'd been reclining in for the past few hours. "We are entirely out of drink, my dear Blaise. You have boldly succeeded where no witch or wizard in the long, sad, history of alcohol has ever succeeded before, and that includes the night me and Ginny got drunk and nearly got married; you have gotten yourself properly hammered."

Blaise glanced around at the numerous bottles lying around the living room floor. "No more Ogden's?" he grumbled, swinging his feet onto the floor and smashing a few bottles. "Nope." Draco responded cheerfully. "No Malten Lava?" Blaise asked, holding up yet another empty bottle and shaking it expectantly. "Not a drop."

"Peppergage's?"

"If only."

"Salton's?"

"Not in this lifetime."

"IceScotch?"

"Ha. You wish."

"Jarpin's?"

"Not since my cousin's thirtieth."

"Torpool's Toadstool Tequila?"

"Are you really that desperate?"

"Lady Liliah's Luscious Licorice Liquor Liquid?"

"You're drunk and that's a tongue twister; you don't have the physical capacity to even think that, never mind say it."

"Minty Maverick?"

"Blaise…you are the epitome of shit-faced right now."

"Beer?"

Draco's left eye twitched. "You _are_ seriously desperate to drink yourself to death, aren't you?" Blaise scoffed, finding a somewhat full long blue bottle and shoving it halfway down his oesophagus carelessly. He pulled it out a while later, deciding he needed to breathe.

"I believe the word is 'determined' and that doesn't even come close."

"Why are you doing this?"

"I thought we established that already? I'm in love with someone who I think is in love with me, but she's too bloody scared to come out of her bloody brother's house and not to be outdone, his wife nearly hexed my willy off for trying to see Ginny yesterday and I have no idea why Ginny's being so girly about this, so I think that answers that question! I'm going out the fun way!"

He would have chugged himself to death on a bottle of Weasley Wizard's Wonderous Whiskey, but Draco grabbed it from him and threw it long-distance out the kitchen window. A squawk and an explosion of bloody feathers into the kitchen sink informed Draco that he had just killed the famous, renowned, world-wide sensationalist, associate head of Solid's favourite owl.

"So that's it?" Draco asked, making a mental note to buy new owl. "You're just going to give up on her because she's scared?" Blaise scoffed in answer, staggering drunkenly to his feet in search of more liquid.

Searing pain lanced through his head as it was jerked back and hauled along with the rest of him into the kitchen, where a sink full of icy cold water and owl feathers awaited him.

Some time later, fully drenched and with a jaunty owl feather sticking up his left nostril, Blaise emerged from the kitchen, cured of all stupidity…related to the Ginny ordeal, at least. Draco sat him down and performed a drying spell, curbing himself from accidentally igniting Blaise's pants into a flaming torpor for entertainment.

That would have to wait for Christmas.

"Now that you've gotten that out of your system…what are you going to do about this?" Draco asked quietly as he waved his wand and all of the empty bottles disappeared from the room and several adjoining rooms.

Blaise took a deep breath. "I have to get her back."

"And how are you going to do that?"

"Well…"

"Blaise…?"

"…"

"I don't like that look."

"You shouldn't."

"You're not going to do something embarrassing, are you?"

"To be sure."

"Feck, now where's Creevey when you need him?"

"St. Mungo's, I believe. They're still trying to remove the lens from his eye socket."

"Indeed."

"Proud of me?"

"Yes. But you're never going to another wedding on your own."

"Oh, I don't plan to. Not alone."

"You know, I see you , and I see this manic look in your eyes and if I were two, I'd shit myself."

"It's called love, Draco."

"Shitting yourself or acting like a two year old?" At Blaise's glare, he put up his hands. "I know. I know…that's the crazy scary part."

"You have no idea."

……………………

Ginny groaned.

"I know I'm the world's greatest moron, alright? Fuck, stop staring at me!" she screamed.

Hermione smiled softly. "Well, as long as that's clarified…" she trailed off as Ron stalked through the house, muttering something about 'Slytherin-proofing' his apartment. Ginny buried her face into the couch pillow and screamed.

"Why don't you just go back and talk to him?" Hermione asked her large blue pillow that had been a present from George's wife and she absolutely hated it and really wasn't so bothered that Ginny was getting her saliva all over it and that she would have to dispose of it after Ginny was gone.

Katie could kill Ginny for that.

Ginny rolled over. "Because the second he sees me, he's going to try and jump my bones."

"Well, why don't you stop him and talk to him before he gets that far?"

"Because the second I see him, I'm going to try and jump _his_ bones."

"I see. This is fairly complicated."

"Tell me about it…who thought lust would be so complicated. I'm going to kill Dumbledore; this whole inter-house relationship idea was a bad one from the beginning and once Blaise and I are together, I'm going to tell him that." Ginny said decisively.

"And that's a punishment, is it?"

"Good point. Alright…and he's not invited to our wedding."

Hermione smirked. "Whose wedding?" she asked curiously.

"Mine and Bl-" Ginny stopped mid-sentence and her tongue fell out of her mouth as she realized what she'd been about to say.

Hermione was smirking the way only Hermione and her damnable know-it-all ways could smile. "So, you're considering marrying Zabini?" she asked. Ginny's mouth had yet to win its battle with gravity and shock.

"Has he asked you? I didn't think he had. Do you want him to?" Ginny was still silent. "Have you thought about the rest of your life? Is he a part of it?"

Ginny's eye had progressed to ticking anxiously. She _had_ envisioned the rest of her life with Blaise. Apparently without actually putting any thought into it. She wanted it all; the whole wedding and marriage that had so frightened her with Draco. It wasn't that she wasn't ready, it just hadn't been the right person. Blaise was the right person. He would always be the right person. He was the only person for her and her heart had been telling her the whole time and she was beginning to hyperventilate and see red spots because in trying to avoid getting hurt and fucking things up, she had done just that.

"Oh, shit!"

"Vulgar, but yes. Shit, indeed."

Ginny wasn't sure if she should laugh or cry, but she didn't have to make that choice.

Ron came flying into the room, sans his broomstick, skidding to a halt in front of his wife and sister. His mouth was flapping open like a kite in the wind and Ginny was tempted to yank it shut or hex it off.

"I…you…Za…Slyth…Bl…you…_I_…wha…get your arse out here, right now."

Ginny stood and was promptly pulled out the door into Ron and Hermione's sun room. Ron shoved her in front of the large picture window and with a flick of his wand, opened the huge pane of glass, gesturing for her to look out. A gust of frosty winter air whipped at her face.

"Go on. What do you make of that, then?"

Ginny leaned cautiously out the window, almost entirely sure that Ron wouldn't push her out, but not absolutely, as she was pretty sure he hadn't taken the whole in-love-with-a-Slytherin too well.

What she saw nearly made her fall out the window.

"Oi, Ginger-Pop, get your arse out here!"

…………………….

"Shut the fuck up, Draco."

Draco was writhing on the ground, laughing his arse off in the snow.

Blaise stared up at the window, shivering madly. "Do you think she's up there?"

Draco was too busy dying of laughter to reply.

"Oi, Ginger-Pop, get your arse out here!"

A mane of red hair popped out the window several stories up. "Blaise, what the hell are you bloody doing?" it screamed and he was pleased to hear a note of panic in her voice.

"I'm here to win you over!" he screamed, starting to rub his arms.

"You're going to kill yourself!"

"Tried that already with liquor, it didn't work. Besides, I need to tell you something!"

"What the fuck do you have to fucking tell me that entails you parading down Chechter Street in the buff?" she screamed and Draco started howling again.

Blaise was beginning to lose feeling in his bare feet and began doing a little jig in the middle of the street, which was humiliating enough without the temporary ice age. "Oh, not much. Just that I love you!" he shouted, his teeth chattering, willing his toes to not go numb as he wondered whether being out, exposed in the snow this much would hurt his privates too badly.

"What did I tell you about the romantic thing?"

"Fine…I want you to teach me how to play chess…and I want to do it for the rest of our lives."

"You stupid oaf, I'm going to kill you. You're trying to get hypothermia just because you had to state the obvious? You're un-fucking-believable, you masochistic, self-mutil-" she'd been leaning so far out the window that Blaise actually saw her brother's arms circle her waist and pull her back in. He could also hear the older sibling berating her about her language.

"Ron! Sod off!"

"I live here!"

"Then go in the other room and play with your broomstick."

"Gi-"

"He's fucking freezing out there!"

"If mum finds out-"

"She'll just have to bloody deal with it won't she, because I love him and I want to spend the bloody rest of my life with him!"

………………………….

Ginny glared at Ron for a full minute before an explosion of noise from the window caught her attention. Blaise was jumping up and down angrily and Ginny paused for a moment to admire his body, even in the freezing middle of winter. She really hoped he'd been smart enough to put a Warming Charm on himself.

"-ruddy cow, you ruined the whole thing!"

Ginny leaned out the window again. "What are you on about, you giant naked manky git?"

"I came here to tell you I'm in love with you and-"

"We know that, you sodding wanker-"

"-and if you'd shut your fat mouth, I'd tell you that the next part was going to be that I want to spend the rest of my life arguing at the top of my lungs through windows with you. I want to stand out in the freezing bloody snow…with not a stitch on me…just so I can make you smile. I want to tell you I love you a billion times every day and hear you tell me to shut the hell up because I'm being a hopelessly mushy prat. I want to be with you, Gin, and I don't care how long it takes you to get used to the idea. I want you to marry me, Ginny Weasley." He shouted and Draco finally shut the hell up, interested.

Ginny really did nearly fall out the window.

Blaise could see the breath billowing from her mouth as she breathed heavily.

"Well, I-"

"GINEVRA WEASLEY!"

Blaise jumped a bit at the incredible volume of her brother's voice.

"YOU HAD BETTER SAY YES, YOU STUPID TWIT, OR I _WILL_ TELL MUM AND _SHE_ CAN KILL YOU. THAT WAS DISGUSTINGLY POETIC AND ROMANTIC AND SHITE. THAT WAS BEAUTIFUL AND YOU RUDDY KNOW IT. _I_ KNOW IT AND I DON'T EVEN LIKE THE BERK, SO YOU TELL HIM YOU'LL MARRY HIM OR SO HELP ME, I'LL SHOVE YOU OUT THIS GODRIC-DAMN FUCKING BLOODY WINDOW IN YOUR KNICKERS AND THE TWO OF YOU CAN FREEZE TOGETHER!"

Hermione slapped him over the head and berated him for his language.

"YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO, RON!" Ginny shouted back.

Blaise's hopes were starting to plummet drastically.

The red head popped out the window again. "Blaise, get your bloody popsicle-arse up here before your pecker falls off. I love you too, alright, you stupid bastard?"

Blaise was unsatisfied, even though certain parts of his body were beginning to turn an interesting blue colour.

"You still haven't answered my question!" he yelled.

In reply Ginny threw her shoe out the window. Blaise discovered that he did indeed have feeling in his face and that it hurt rather a lot.

"Are you completely deranged, you snot-nosed git? Of course I'll marry you; what took you so bloody long?"


	17. Abstinence is Overrated

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Here it is: the very end. The end of all ends. The last epilogue. It's really long and hopelessly fluffy, but I hope you ejoy. This is, by far, my favorite piece of work. So, without further ado...here you go. P.S.: If I get more than 150 reviews, I'll do a small sequel. Maybe.

**DISCLAIMER:** Not mine if it belongs to J. K. Rowling

* * *

**Mistaken Liaisons**

**Chapter Seventeen: Abstinence is Overrated**

**or**

**The Chess Game to Beat All Chess Games**

**or **

**Epilogue Final

* * *

**

"Owww, www, www."

"Oh, stop being such a bloody baby," Ginny chided, turning the key and opening the door to the apartment. A towering bundle of blankets, coats, and other assorted cloths stumbled through the doorway and collapsed on the couch.

Ginny turned and waited for Draco to cross the threshold. He stood out in the hallway, silent and yet lacking the malicious sneer on his face prevalent in his younger days. "Are you coming in?" Ginny asked, already knowing the answer. Draco smirked. "With you and Blaise madly in love and his unmentionables in need of warming? Hell, no. I've seen some horrible things in my life, but I just don't think I could handle that. One thing, though; give him a good punch for me. I had to see him stand bare-arsed in the snow. That could have easily killed me." He gave a mock shudder and Ginny laughed.

"You're a fine bloke, Draco. Now that you've finally decided to grow up." She flashed him a brief smirk. "Where are you going to stay?" she asked, toying with her keys. Draco shrugged. "Your friend with the crazy art place…she was hiring when we went in there last. Maybe I'll bone up and get a job. Employment had better be a hell of a lot better than all I've heard it's cracked up to be." He muttered.

"It isn't." Ginny stated truthfully, thinking of her own position that she would undertake in less than a day. Draco scowled. "Brilliant. Well, I've got to give it a shot anyhow. I'll let you know how I like things. Take care of yourself."

With a jaunty wave, he Disapparated.

Ginny sighed and closed the door, turning the bolt.

"Mmmph wwmph fmmft mmph mmmnt?" the tower of cloth questioned, wriggling slightly and nearly falling off the couch. Ginny tossed her keys on the table and landed a heavy punch dead-centre on one of Hermione's old tea cosies. The bundle quaked and let out a muffled groan.

Blaise's head, ruffled and disgruntled, popped out of Ron's baby blanket. "What was that for?" he growled.

"From Draco with love." Ginny smirked, settling down on the couch next to him, giggling slightly. "Oh, if only you knew just what Ron did on that baby blanket…" she mused. Blaise's eyes went wide and he immediately ripped himself from the assortment of cloth.

Realizing he was once again in the buff, he covered himself with a large comforter. "What was that all about?" he asked seriously, gesturing toward the door. Ginny shrugged. "Draco's going to try and get a job. He's going to give us some time to ourselves." For some reason she felt her cheeks go warm and she had the uncomfortable feeling that she might actually be blushing.

Blaise noticed. "Time to do what?" he asked, his voice sounding somewhat strained. Ginny looked over at him. "I love you, Blaise." She said suddenly, on the most stupid whim she'd ever followed. Blaise closed his eyes and at that moment, Ginny knew for once she hadn't fucked things up. Perhaps her stupid whims weren't so stupid…

Stretching across the sofa, Blaise caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, staring into her eyes as if determined to burn her from the inside. Ginny swallowed, deciding he was doing a very good job of it indeed.

"I'm an idiot." He said softly, staring at her as if he wasn't sure whether to cradle her like glass or throw her on the floor and shag the living daylights out of her.

Ginny would have laughed but there seemed to be something stuck in her throat. "I know." She breathed as his face got closer to hers. She desperately wanted him to do something. She usually took the initiative but she wasn't really sure what to do with him. He was so much more than just another shag. She wasn't sure if she knew how to make love.

But she sure as hell was up to trying.

"Blaise." She whispered, closing her eyes as his mouth landed on her cheekbone. "Hmm?" he asked, running kisses up her nose and over her eyelids and down to her mouth, hovering at the opening. His breath was heavy on her lips and Ginny felt her own heartbeat speeding.

"Make love to me?" she asked, her voice coming out a little high and in short pants as she licked her lips, both in anxiety and anticipation.

Blaise laughed. "Yes, thank you."

Stars exploded into super novas of cosmic dimensions. Entire worlds fell and imploded and the dust lit up even more fires. It spread fast and in a rage, sweeping out as far as it could reach. Galaxies burst and were reborn in flames.

"Bloody hell," Ginny breathed weakly, her lips tingling. Blaise pulled his mouth from her collarbone, surprised to see a mark rising there. "That was…" she breathed somewhat heavily, trying to regain her speech. "I've never kissed like that before." Blaise supplied, resting his head on her chest and listening to the steady hammer of her heart in his ear as her chest rose and fell with her erratic breathing.

"Neither have I." Ginny said, just beginning to notice the hardness along her thigh which had been there for a while, since before they had kissed and ruined the balance of the universe.

"Um, Blaise?" he looked up at her. "I know. Not yet, though. This is the most comfortable I've been in a long time." He whispered, gently rubbing his thumb over her hipbone, protruding from under her shirt.

Ginny sighed contentedly. "I haven't been this comfortable since I left the womb." She responded.

Silence filled the room, but it wasn't the awkward kind. On the contrary, Ginny had never felt so at ease with anyone else. And there was something about the way Blaise was laying on top of her that made all the difference. Things felt right.

Including the hand running up the inside of her thigh.

"I thought you were too comfortable for that kind of- oh dear Merlin!" she screamed, biting hard on her lower lip and clutching at the pillow behind her head at the sudden contact. She couldn't quite open her eyes just yet, but she knew Blaise was smirking.

"See? And you said learning to play the piano was useless." Blaise joked, reaching up with his other, non-preoccupied hand to cup her face. Ginny slowly opened her eyes, writhing about restlessly. "It was use-oh, gods- useless." She muttered, biting on the inside of her cheek. "You never play." She insisted, trying not to bite her tongue off.

She sighed in frustration and relief as Blaise gave up his onslaught. She stared him in the eye as he smirked, just as she knew he would.

"Talented, agile fingers are good for more than just piano keys." He said, hand slipping inside her pyjama pants once more.

Ginny had to agree.

……………………..

Ginny groaned in frustration.

"Blaise, I love you so much and it's really going to hurt me if I have to kill you for being a giant git. What are you doing in there!"

The door to Blaise's room stayed shut and for the fifteenth time that night, Ginny wondered if Blaise had fallen asleep. If he had, she really would kill him, fanatic love or no. She was practically vibrating with need and he had probably gone and done something stupid like wanked himself to death. Celibacy was far too overrated.

Her feet were aching as she flopped onto the couch. The rhythmic patter of snow on the window was lulling her into either a soft sleep or a heavy coma and it didn't help that Blaise had partially exhausted her with his…attentions. She tried to peel her eyelids open, but discovered she couldn't as she was already asleep.

……………………

Blaise let out a satisfied sigh.

"Perfect." He muttered, opening the door. "Ginny, I'm read-y." he ended as Ginny was not waiting impatiently outside his door to murder him with a cuckoo clock or the plunger from the loo as she had been threatening.

"Oh, fuck no!" Blaise exclaimed, seeing Ginny snoring lightly on the couch. He hurried over to her side. "Please, please, please wake up." He begged, rubbing her shoulders. Her head lolled about a bit.

"Damnit, Ginevra, you did not just fall asleep!"

"Actually, I had. But someone has a fat mouth. What on earth were you doing?" she yawned, rolling over and facing him.

In reply he covered her eyes and picked her up off the sofa.

"Blaise? Um, not to sound ungrateful that I don't have to look at your sorry face anymore, but what's with the whole blind game?" she asked, putting her hands out in front of her just in case Blaise tried walking her into a wall.

"Shut up, Sparky and you'll find out soon enough."

Ginny felt him bring her to a stop and reaching out, her fingers brushed Blaise's door.

"What now?" she asked.

In response, Blaise walked her forward into the room and uncovered her eyes. Ginny's jaw dropped. "I-you-what-how-" she said, turning to take in the whole room at once. Blaise chuckled, her reaction pleasing him.

Ginny finally turned back to him. "Since when do you have an erotic side?" she asked mischievously. Blaise didn't answer; his feet were steering him closer and closer to her and Ginny found that for all her experience, her heart was pounding at a million miles an hour and her knees were on the same level of consistency as banana pudding with whip cream.

Soft hands contrasted with harsh planes as Ginny was immediately lost in the sensation that was Blaise. His hands melded into her skin and her body seemed to fit against his perfectly. There was no telling where his mouth began and hers ended except for when he pulled away from her lips to let her breathe.

With his lips gently whispering over her shoulder blade, Ginny finally realized that they were both fully clothed. She turned, catching his face in her hands as she did so. She covered his mouth with hers in a brief, fierce kiss that staged a new level in the evening. Sliding her hands reverently down his chest, she let her fingers slide to the fastening on the robes he had thrown on at some point.

Her eyes lifted to meet his and the connection that formed was so dazzling that Ginny started to pull his cloak off without looking down, unable to tear her gaze away. The robes puddle on the floor, Ginny reached and pulled his shirt up and over his head. Blaise closed his eyes and bit his lip as Ginny leaned forward and trailed kisses down the centre of his chest until she was on her knees, toying with his belt.

Her mouth was open and she looked as if she wanted to say something. Blaise cut her off with a silencing kiss that made her forget any insecurities she may have had. Her hands moved away from his belt to tangle in his hair as his own hands slithered up to grasp handfuls of fabric from her shirt.

Pulling off her shirt, Blaise took pains to slowly smooth her hair back in place, running his fingers through it and marvelling at her while he had the chance. He knew he wouldn't have long, though. If she was feeling half the need he was, she would kill him long before he was done looking at her.

Granted, he could probably look at her forever, but definitely not while she was decidedly randy as she was now.

Ginny pushed her pants off her hipbones and stood before him clad only in her knickers.

Blaise let out a laugh that caused her to launch herself at him, tackling him backward onto his bed, which happened to be covered in red and green and black silk sheets and rose petals. Soft chandeliers lit up the canopy bed he'd magicked out of nowhere and exotic iron ornamental candle-holders surrounded the bed.

Straddling him, Ginny deftly socked him in the stomach a few times and she didn't hold back just because she was madly in love with him. "Rule number one: when a girl takes off her clothes, don't laugh!" she said, pounding his abdomen. Catching her wrists Blaise reversed their positions in a flash and Ginny was suddenly all too aware of just how much Blaise wanted her.

Not that she minded.

Blaise grinned. "I'm sorry. But Rule Number Two does say 'if you're going to seduce someone, try not to wear cotton knickers with 'I Heart Snape' on them'." He smirked as Ginny tried not to laugh. "And I'm not entirely sure Snape's name should be _there_, either," Blaise said, giving her side a soft caress.

"Gag gift. Fred and George. Christmas. Need I say more?"

Blaise laughed and Ginny rolled them over, dangerously close to the edge of the bed.

"You should have seen what they got Hermione."

"No actually, I'd rather not. And don't mention your brother's wife while we're half naked and wrestling in my bed. It disturbs the mood."

"Well, if the mood's ruined, then I guess I'd better be getting back to my own bed then, right? G'night Blaise, see you in the morning." Ginny said, swinging her leg back over Blaise's waist and shuffling to the door, grinning inanely.

She'd gotten maybe two steps when Blaise tackled her and backed her up against the door, pinning her arms above her head and attacking her mouth and neck ardently enough to make her eyes roll in the back of her head.

"Jesus, Blaise, I was just kidding." She said breathlessly as he wrapped her legs around his waist. She was glad; she couldn't stand on her own.

"I can't feel my kneecaps." She said, breathing heavily as she tilted her neck to the side. Blaise slid his hands up her thighs. "Nevermind." She squeaked, eyes closing dreamily. "Oh my gods…" Ginny opened her eyes as Blaise stopped, sounding astonished. He was staring at her as if she'd grown a second head "…are you blushing?" he asked, thoroughly stunned. Ginny felt her cheeks heat up even more. "No."

"You are!"

"Shut up, Blaise!"

He didn't look like he was going to, so Ginny effectively accomplished the task herself, silencing him with a kiss. This time Ginny could feel Blaise go weak at the knees and that made her deliriously happy for reasons unaccounted for.

Blaise's hands on her thighs were grasping and shaking all at once and one or the other of them were going to just go mad and rip the other's clothes off soon when all of a sudden there was a rather large pop from the living room.

Ginny and Blaise froze, their position ridiculously promiscuous, even as Ginny removed her legs from his waist and he took the hands from inside her knickers. Turning into the door, Ginny cracked it open and peeped through it. Almost as immediately, she shut it, her eyes going wide.

"Shit, it's Ron!"

……………………………….

"Ginny! Where the bloody hell are you? I need to talk to you so wake up and get your arse out here!"

Ginny was leaning against Blaise's door as Ron continued hollering at her door across the hall, oblivious to the fact that his baby sister was not fully clothed and asleep in her room, but almost fully unclothed and trying to sleep with someone in their room.

Blaise was staring at her oddly. "Uh…Ginny…your brother seems to be here." He stated the obvious. Ginny glared up at him. "No, really? I couldn't hear him all the way over here." She said sarcastically before leaning against the door again.

Blaise arched an eyebrow. "So, don't you think you ought to go and say hello before he breaks your door down? I don't know how many times it can take it." Ginny rolled her eyes. "How's it going to look if I come out of your room at this time of night, looking like shite and smelling like sex?"

Blaise's eyes were darting back and forth and he looked a trifle confused. "Erm…I may be stating the obvious, but…we are engaged, you know." Ginny snorted before grinning up at him sheepishly. "Erm…Ron's not exactly going to be thrilled about us fooling around before we're married?" she said a little hesitantly.

Blaise really couldn't help it; he let out a snort of laughter. "I'm sorry Gin, but is the boy really that oblivious? I mean, you aren't exactly Miss Celibacy here." Fierce glare. "And anyway, I know for a fact your brother and Granger weren't quite abstinent before they got married…hell they were at it in Hogwarts. I'm surprised you never heard them."

Ginny looked vaguely homicidal as she glanced backward at the door. "Oh, really?" she asked, hauling on her robes. "I think it's time my brother and I had a little heart-to-heart."

She left the room and Blaise began praying for her brother as verbal onslaughts began in the living room. He didn't necessarily like the silly sod, but no one should ever be subjected to what she was capable of when she was pissed off. He only hoped in the case of emergency, that the robes he'd rented for his wedding could work as funeral robes as well.

……………………..

Blaise had fallen asleep eventually; the last thing he clearly remembered was hearing Ron jump up and down on the kitchen table singing 'God Save the Queen', soprano style. Blaise remembered that curse of hers quite well…that had been the worst birthday party ever and he was too drunk the next morning to remember the worst of it.

He was surprised to see the sun up in outside his only window and even more surprised to hear that the two siblings were still going at it. It appeared the youngest Weasley's numerous bed-hopping exploits had been discovered and it appeared she was now paying heavily for it.

He heard angry stomping following a pop from the living room and immediately hid under his covers. His door opened and slammed and when he peeked out from under his sheets, Ginny was leaning heavily against the wall, clutching her stomach and looking deadly tired.

Blaise got up and pulled her over to the bed, settling her down in front of him as he began to massage and work through the tension in her back and neck. Her head lolled back and she let out a long sigh. "The manky bastard put an Abstinence Charm on me!" she growled, sounding very much like she'd like to shove Ron's head down the loo and flush.

Blaise's fingers flickered from their task for only a moment before resuming it. "What are you going to do?" he asked. "No a bloody lot! Not until I'm married at least. Let's face it; my days as a single, carefree witch are over. Either I succumb to marriage or live the rest of my life in sexless abandon." She paused for a moment. "Fuck that. Blaise, when can we get married?" she asked. Blaise's fingers spazzed out on her shoulder and Ginny had the feeling she'd have a bruise there.

"Married?" Blaise asked, the reality of the situation looming up in front of him. "Erm…well, I don't…I suppose…I mean, these things usually take a couple of months in planning and whatnot, don't they?" he said somewhat stupidly. Ginny sighed, standing and stretching.

"Yes, I suppose. Well, I guess I'll just have to wait, then." Blaise was astonished at how dejected she sounded; he'd had her pegged as one of those gamophobes like Draco. Before he could tell her he'd marry her that morning if she wanted to get married in dirty robes, she had mumbled a brief farewell and left the room to go finish packing; she was catching a Portkey to Genoa on the seaside and it activated at noon.

…………………………..

Blaise glanced up at the clock in the kitchen.

12:01.

She was gone.

Officially, wholly, and really. She was gone. What had seemed only a temporarily vacated apartment a minute ago now seemed a dank and deserted catacomb that had not seen the light of day in a thousand years, condemned to never see it again for that matter.

Blaise felt dejected.

He'd tried talking to Ginny, but he couldn't get the words out and she seemed so impatient to get on her way. There was nothing he could think to say that would make any difference. He knew he couldn't ask her to give up the job she'd fought tooth and nail over, but he nonetheless wanted to tie her up in the apartment and never let her out of his sight again.

He stirred his tea morosely.

He felt so strongly; why didn't it come across that way? He knew what he wanted, so why didn't he get it? He knew what he wanted to tell her; that she was amazing and incredible and perfect and an entire dictionary of words that hadn't been invented yet. She was everything and anything to him and he wanted her with him. So why couldn't he tell her that?

What if he lost her because he was too hesitant to say anything wrong?

……………………………………………….

Ginny sighed as she landed firmly on her rear, shooting a spike of pain through her back. She rolled off her suitcase and got painfully to her feet, feeling her bones creak and ache in retaliation for the pain they'd just gone through.

A thin, reedy voice accompanied by its tall, golden-skinned owner, a woman in her forties, was waiting for her to stand. "I take it you are Signora Weesley?" the woman asked, her voice halting in English and slightly droopy. Ginny nodded. "I'm sorry I don't speak Italian; I'm a fast learner though." She said, wishing she sounded more intelligent. This was not the first impression she wanted to make.

The woman smiled. "Ah, _bellissima_, there is no need for apologies. We are friends, now, you see. _Andiamo_, we go now to your villa; your new home, _si_?"

"Not my new home…just a temporary one."

………………………………………………….

"_Aspetta, aspetta, bellissima."_ Ginny stopped tugging at her luggage to turn towards Signora Alotta, the woman Ginny was to be working for in the years to come. The woman tossed her long braid of wavy hair over her shoulder. "No, no…your bed goes there. You put clothes in other room, with cabinet, _si_?" Ginny smiled sheepishly. "Yes. Of course." She said, and stopped trying to shove her suitcase under her small bed.

The villa was lovely. Right by the shore, it was a small, whitewashed place with two floors, both like small apartments in a soft, Mediterranean tone. Blaise would have loved it; he'd always talked about going back to live at his family's old home in the Italian countryside. She knew it was somewhere at the foothills of the Apennines where they grew grapes and made wine for income. One day she would visit it; to feel close to him.

She was already beating herself up for being so stubborn and not giving him a proper farewell when she didn't really know when she'd see him again.

She looked up to notice Alotta smiling knowingly at her. "You think about your _amour, eh bellissima?"_ Ginny stared openly at the other woman. She smiled, amber eyes betraying shrewd wisdom behind warm lines. "Alotta knows, _bellissima._ Alotta knows the ways of a young girl's heart. You come here to _escape_, no? Get away? _Ah, ma_ there is no way to escape from love, _bellissima_. It comes sooner or later with no invitation."

…………………………….

Ginny sighed.

Alotta was gone for the night; the woman was different than what Ginny had expected, but she figured her to be a lovely woman she wouldn't mind working with. It wasn't exactly writing, but at least it was work. And when you're blacklisted as she was, any work is better than no work.

Ginny smiled as she swept her fingers through her hair. Alotta hadn't approved; girls should have nice, long hair or else they look like boys. And girls should also not wear men's pants and shirts to sleep in.

For the first night in her adult life, Ginny actually felt like a woman. Alotta had given her a light white cottony dress that floated around her ankles and kept sliding off one shoulder. Ginny's hair was down and almost touched her shoulders, longer than it had been in a while.

Curled up on the window seat, she stared out over the dark cobble streets below and made a wish on a streetlamp. Streetlamps were common and yet different. Ginny had been making wishes on stars her whole life and they never seemed to get her anywhere.

She wished she could just be with Blaise.

Little did she know that the key factor in making that wish come true was shuffling his feet nervously outside her door.

…………………

Ginny jumped at the knock at the door before rising to answer it. Alotta had probably forgotten something else she needed to tell her. Ginny swung the door open and nearly fainted dead away.

Blaise was standing in her doorway in the same clothes he'd been wearing when she left him. The look on his face was so lost and yet so certain and yet so unsure all at the same time that Ginny didn't need to hear what he would try to tell her; she knew from the odd look in his eyes.

Ginny flew at him and pressed her mouth to his almost greedily.

Blaise responded in turn, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and holding her body as close to his as humanly possible while at the same time trying to cover her entire body with kisses.

Somehow thy managed to both get inside the room and Blaise kicked the door shut, grabbing handfuls of fabric in dangerous desperation. "Christ, Sparky, what the hell are you wearing?" he growled into her neck, trying to find a hem to the endless skirt bunched around her knees.

Ginny was trying valiantly not to whimper. She hated girls that whimpered. It was pathetic. But Blaise's mouth was doing something really interesting to her earlobe. She didn't realize she'd been asked a question until he nipped at her neck and repeated his query.

"Oh…Alotta made me wear it." She mumbled incoherently, tangling her hands in his hair and pulling his mouth to his. Blaise's hands were still fumbling around as they played out an awkward kind of dance across the room. He pulled his mouth away finally to glance down at where his hands were.

"Damnit…of all times for you to dress like a woman…" he grumbled, pulling up the voluminous skirts separating him from her…he had to just be as close to her as possible. "What, are you better at taking off men's clothes?" Ginny laughed, feeling his frustration washing over her.

Ginny pulled herself away and backed up until she was standing at the edge of the bed. She leaned down and pulled the dress off with only a little less difficulty than Blaise had. Blaise watched, mesmerized, as she clumsily tore the long dress off.

Somehow he managed to de-robe himself in a matter of seconds and in even less time, had her trembling with the power and intensity of his kisses. Ginny's hands had at some point pulled away from his neck and were clenching and unclenching to either side of her, her arms stretched across the mattress. Blaise pulled away from her as she started to dig her nails into the mattress.

He sat there for a full minute, breathing heavily, just staring down at her. Her pale skin was flushed and somewhat blotchy. Her skin was clammy and on the verge of breaking out in sweat, due to some rather skilled tongue exercises at strategic places all over her body. Her chest, encased in a horrible orange bra that made her skin look livid, was heaving in an intriguingly seductive way.

Blaise had never thought she looked more beautiful.

Ginny finally opened her eyes. "The Abstinence Charm," she whispered almost painfully, finally remembering. Blaise shook his head, an expression of rapt adoration on his face as he brushed her hair out of her face. "That's not important." Ginny was ready to protest when Blaise's hand found the elastic on her knickers. "But there are other ways to get around the Charm." Ginny's face contorted in jagged bliss. "I love you," was the first thing out of her mouth. Blaise smiled down at her, thanked every deity he knew of, and proceeded to remove their remaining clothes.

"I love you too."

………………………

It would take Ginny several months for her to make up to Alotta, who'd nearly had a heart attack when she entered Ginny's room the next morning, but for Ginny (and Blaise) it was well worth it.

Ginny had cringed as the woman had flown from the room, slamming the door shut and shouting in Italian. Blaise pulled his head out from under the covers and grinned recklessly. "I don't know about you, but this brings back memories from my Hogwarts days." He grinned, settling himself across Ginny's stomach and burying his face in her neck.

Ginny grinned. "Get caught by Filch doing the naughty with some Slytherin chit?" she asked. Blaise smiled, wrapping his arms around her waist and sighing heavily, exuding contentment. "If only I'd had half a brain in those days…it might have been us Filch caught rolling around on Moaning Myrtle's bathroom floor."

Ginny flinched. "Eew. I didn't need to hear that and if you ever tell me who you did that with, I swear to god, I won't marry you." Blaise glanced up from where he'd been making interesting designs on her neck in raised purple spots.

"You wouldn't do that…I can't live without you." Blaise dodged the hand that rose to smack him. "Gods, you pansy…you are such a sap. Really…did you write trashy romance novels in a past life?" Blaise smirked in response. "Maybe. These corny lines….are they working?" he asked cockily. Ginny tried not to smile. "Maybe." She admitted, leaning down to kiss him again.

………………………………

Ginny and Blaise were married a year later, of course finding Ron and torturing him until he removed the Charm. In that year, Ginny knew that marriage would only be the legal bit of it…they were forever already without the ceremony.

The wedding was tasteful, mostly thanks to Molly Weasley's attention since neither Blaise nor Ginny were interested in anything much but themselves.

Ginny had thought about disregarding the traditional wedding and had even gone to visit Rythmi for ideas. She rapidly decided to go traditional when she found her odd friend doing something naughty on the bar with a very familiar blonde Slytherin.

The wedding took place at the Zabini country estate, which Blaise had visited and decided to take over. The winery began to release the best of Zabini wines again and profits were rolling in. Meanwhile, Ginny had said farewell to Signora Alotta, who had been only too happy to see Ginny and Blaise leave, and instead took up writing a novel that would later become one of the best in wizardry history and would aid her into a long career in journalism, eventually replacing none other than Lei Chang.

Living in a gorgeous apartment along the beach and just at the foot of the mountains where Blaise's winery resided, Ginny and Blaise could hardly wait to get married.

The wedding ceremony was beautiful under the apple arbours on the south end of Zabini estate. It was immediately concluded with the bride and groom Disapparating in the middle of their heated, urgent kiss, coming back two hours later for Ginny to attack her brother in retaliation for his interference.

Molly Weasley was very interested in this Abstinence Charm business, and Ron was later walloped with a wooden spoon that appeared seemingly out of nowhere, but in actuality, had been Mrs. Weasley's wedding gift to Ginny, reminding her that men sometimes needed to be put in their place. After cleaning up her maid of honour (a particularly evil punishment for her youngest brother, and a title that neither Fred nor George would ever let him forget), the happy couple were toasted and Ginny tried to kill Blaise with cake for splashing her with champagne.

Molly and Arthur Weasley were dancing slowly under the warm Italian sun, watching their youngest daughter chasing her husband around, her wedding dress hitched up to her knees and a glob of cake in her hand. The smile on the young Italian's face was a shimmer of truth and joy and Molly found tears in her eyes.

"They're really happy, aren't they?" she asked her husband as he twirled her.

Arthur glanced up. Draco Malfoy was doing an outlandish dance with a woman dressed like a banana with hair like a plum and enough earrings to hang herself with. Ron was getting sympathetic attention from Hermione, who was kissing him and holding her slightly swollen stomach, his hand over hers. Harry was drinking champagne and laughing with none other than Pansy Parkinson, who was looking modest and surprisingly demure as she sipped her water.

He finally turned to his daughter, now straddling Blaise on the grass and shoving cake down his throat triumphantly. He watched as she leaned down and kissed him softly as his hands wrapped around her waist, holding her reverently and pulling her dress neck back, a chunk of cake poised to fall down her back.

Arthur smiled as his daughter leapt up, laughing and kissing Blaise as he picked her up and spun her around.

"You know, I really think they are."


End file.
